The Flower In The Basement
by LittleMissHyde
Summary: Lisa Garland is a young intern at Alchemilla Hospital. When she attracts the interest of a certain Doctor, the girl soon finds herself spiralling into a world of lust and betrayal. This is the story of her eventual self-destruction.
1. Seed

**AN: I took a lot of liberties with this story, whilst also trying to remain as faithful to the game as possible. I'm also not a nurse, nor do I have any experience in the field, so forgive me for any errors made.**

Lisa had not always been such a naive and frightened young orchid. She had at one time considered herself a rose in bloom, with flowing, vivacious petals.

Then how unusual, she thought, that such a fresh young bud would have the means to be ensnared by a thorny bramble, tainted by the temptation that such a danger brought.

It was somehow exhilarating, a rush of energy that made her feel so alive, yet left her so dead. A mixture of thrill and shame, lust and deceit, fear and loathing.

They became one, slowly creeping through her roots, wilting her beautiful petals until there was nothing left but a withered, dried up shell.

She found it ironic, how the blossoming flower had been led so astray by something as repulsive and plain as a measly shrub.

Yet that is what it was. A dying rose, left to crumble and fade in a dingy basement, forever waiting for a lovely day.


	2. Roots

Lisa gazed at her reflection in the mirror, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. A plain white hat sat atop her head, holding the bob in position. She hated having to wear the damn thing, finding that it never stayed in place.

Clipping her badge to her cardigan, the teenaged nurse heaved a deflated sigh, fiddling nervously with her green earrings. A pair of white pumps shaped her feet, making soft scuffing sounds upon the floor.

She'd only been in training for a few months, yet already she found herself growing tired of the job. Despite constant efforts to prove herself, it seemed the elder staff regarded her as nothing more than a liability, giving her all the horrid jobs that they didn't want to do.

How many times had she emptied bed pans that day?

Washing her hands in the bathroom sink, Lisa inhaled the thick scent of vanilla soap, letting the silky warmth of hot water rinse away the suds. Drying her hands on a paper towel, the nurse dropped the soggy paper into a nearby bin, her teal eyes laden with sleep.

'Smile and look happy.' She told herself, gripping the basin with both hands. 'That's all you have to do, just smile and look happy.'

Smoothing down her collar, the strawberry blonde stared at her reflection in the mirror, assuring herself that she looked professional and prepared. Forcing her lips into a cheerful curve, the woman reached for the doorknob, stepping out into the vacant hall.

A cold breeze blew in from the open windows, erecting goosebumps along her pale skin. It was another grey day, and despite being a notable tourist attraction, Silent Hill suffered from bouts of thick fog that rolled in from the surrounding lake.

Rubbing at her cold arms, the nurse made her way across the marble floor, gazing vacantly at her dull surroundings.

Despite being a hospital, Alchemilla was drab and depressing, with dingy corridors leading to dingy rooms, a dark stairwell that seemingly led to nowhere, and lifeless staff who shambled around like zombies.

Posters were here and there, detailing the danger of teenage pregnancy, unprotected sex and drug abuse. Even the decor was subdued, with that typical sterile theme Lisa had come to despise. Bland and uninspired.

The trouble with white was that it was difficult to keep clean. The whiter it got, the filthier it seemed, coated in layers of thick grime and dust. No matter how hard you scrubbed, or how often you bleached, the stubborn dirt still remained.

Alchemilla was still relatively young, being something of a small hospital compared to the much larger Brookhaven. There was also Cedar Grove Sanitarium, which dealt specifically with contagions and the mentally unstable.

Despite it's age, five generations of Garland women had already worked under it's roof. This tradition had led to Lisa becoming a nurse herself, though only out of respect for her mother. In truth, she had very little interest in such a career.

_I only want what's best for you._ Her mother had insisted, pleading with her young daughter. _Don't you love me?'_

'Of course I do,' The nurse whispered, recalling painful memories.

_If that were true, then you'd do as I asked. Why must you continue to be such a disobedient little girl!?_

Tears formed in her mother's eyes, a look of disappointment directed at her child. Guilt welled up inside the girl. She only wanted to please her beloved parent.

_I'm sorry mama, _She cried, clinging to her mother's arm. _I'll be a good girl, I promise. I'll do whatever you want me to do, just don't look at me like that!_

Shaking her head, Lisa broke free from her dazed stupor, having already arrived at the elevator doors. She'd been so lost in thought that she hadn't even realised where she was.

Blinking away the remnants of her past, the intern stepped into the small cube, listening to the familiar _clink_ of doors sliding shut. Pushing the button for the second floor, she leaned lazily against the far wall, staring at her distorted reflection in the shiny surface.

Folding her arms across her chest, the nurse let out a low breath, shutting her eyes to counter the dizzying vertigo. She'd have taken the stairs if it weren't so tedious.

When the lift stopped, Lisa waited impatiently for the doors to swing open, her fingers twitching with the urge to leave.

As she stepped into the corridor, a man brushed against her shoulder, slightly startling the unsuspecting girl. Glancing back, she watched as Dr. Kaufman entered the elevator behind her, his expensive shoes clacking upon the floor. A briefcase sat between his fingers.

'Good Morning.' She tried, throwing him a weak smile.

'Good Morning.' He replied, face as hard as it ever was.

The doors shut, the lift departed, and Lisa found herself utterly fed up with the man's arrogance. Forever rude, manners were something that he'd apparently never heard of.

At first the young girl thought she'd done something wrong, wondering why the doctor had taken such a dislike to her. Yet according to the rest of the staff, Michael Kaufman was like that with everyone, having something of a stern and jaded disposition.

Lisa often found herself pondering why someone so bitter and cold would aspire to become a doctor. He obviously didn't find it very rewarding, making no attempt to mask his distaste and indifference towards those in his care.

A private man, Kaufman would always lock his office door, refusing to be disturbed unless there was an emergency. On the rare occasions he was seen in public, the man would do little more than fill out forms and give orders, acting in his usual stoic way.

Maybe there was some psychological reasoning behind his actions? The nurse doubted that very much, yet still she wished to know.

Upon entering the nurse's room, Lisa was greeted by an empy jug sitting on the table. Once again she found herself the common dogsbody, forced into performing menial tasks that served no purpose other than to keep her out of trouble.

A soft noise of displeasure escaped her lips, yet the intern had no choice but to oblige. It had been awfully quiet as of late, with some days producing little work for the trainee. She'd take whatever she could get.

The majority of her lunch breaks were devoted to homework, skimming through thick medical books and heavy folders. At home she would study until the early hours of the morning, determined to prove her worth.

So why was it that she never seemed to do anything beyond change beds and sweep floors? They had a janitor for the latter, but somehow the broom always ended up in her hands.

None of her superiors made any attempt to properly teach her what she desperately needed to know, and whenever she queried the elder staff about it, they merely got angry and shooed her away. Lisa's mother did the best she could to train her daughter, but without the correct medical supplies, it often proved fruitless and frustrating.

Once the jug was full, Lisa turned off the tap and headed for the door, feeling soft drops of dripping water leak onto her shoes. She'd been repeating the same task for some time now, aimlessly wandering from room to room, ensuring the patients were fed and watered.

_Fed and watered. _They made them sound like plants, as though the people under their care were nothing more than trees in need of preening. It disgusted the girl, who found remarks such as that to be demeaning and unprofessional.

There were times when she'd considered having a word with the director, but upon discovering that Kaufman _was_ the director, Lisa suddenly didn't feel so inclined to complain. In the end she decided it was better to avoid the disagreeable doctor.

The less she had to see of him, the better her life would be.


	3. Bud

By noon Lisa was all but ready to collapse, her feet throbbing painfully in the too-small pumps. She'd asked for a larger pair, but so far nothing had come of her request.

Draping her uniform over an arm, the teen closed her locker with a forceful slam, trying to keep it shut despite the damaged latch.

When she became a full-time nurse, she felt sure they'd place her on the night-shift. That's where all the newbies went, or so she'd heard. Less sleep, more work. It made her wonder why she even bothered.

_I'm so proud of you._

Her mother's words hit her like a slap in the face, and despite being nothing more than a passing memory, they burrowed deep inside her heart. Suddenly sad, the nurse lowered her gaze and skulked out of the changing room.

Muffled chatter echoed through the now bustling hall. Many were leaving, whilst others had only just arrived. They all seemed happy and content with their lives, discussing topics which Lisa held no interest in.

She signed out at the reception desk, her signature a lazy, half-hearted scribble. Another unexceptional day had passed. And tomorrow, another unexceptional day would begin.

The heavy doors slammed behind her as she made her way onto the street. By now the thick fog had cleared, though an icy chill still remained. With her uniform slung under an arm, Lisa tugged at the scarf around her neck, blowing out a puff of warm air.

The paving stones were littered with ugly cracks, tiny roots beginning to sprout from the soil below. Though it's status as a mining town had long since passed, Silent Hill had become a hot spot for tourists, with the number of hotels increasing rapidly.

Magazines described the town as the perfect place to take a vacation, leading to the subsequent construction of an amusement park, and later a bowling alley, in hopes of appealing to a more family friendly crowd.

The nurse herself could not fathom why such a humdrum place had grown so popular. It's history was littered with bloodshed and torment, a dark past now firmly locked away behind a glass case, abandoned to the cruelty of time.

Lisa's grand-father would tell stories of the helmet-clad executioners, elusive cults and strange rituals related to the town, and though they entertained the girl, her mother considered it all nonsense, informing her daughter not to listen.

_Silly hocus pocus_. She would say. _Complete garbage._

Lisa missed her grand-father.

Pausing on the edge of Koontz Street, the nurse let her gaze linger on Artaud Theatre, a sharp stab of nostalgia making her sigh. It still hurt.

She'd wanted to be a star, more than anything in the world. Back when she was still a student at Midwhich Elelmentary School, the girl had joined a drama club, landing roles in a selection of school plays.

She was never more happy than when she was on stage, performing in front of a spellbound audience. It made her feel powerful, as though she could touch the sky, as though she could achieve anything simply by wishing for it.

Lisa's teacher encouraged her to pursue an acting career, igniting a passion within the child, yet pushing her farther and farther away from the prospect of becoming a nurse.

Upon beginning high school, the teen enrolled in a singing class, hoping to improve her acceptable yet somewhat mediocre vocal talents.

Knowing her parents would never pay the excessive fee, Lisa got two part-time jobs to help her get by. On week nights she was a waitress at Annie's bar, whilst her weekends were spent at Andy's Books. They didn't pay well, but she managed.

At first secretive about her motives, the girl finally garnered enough courage to tell her parents what she was doing, desperate to be accepted by the two people she worked so hard to appease.

_An actress?_ Her mother mocked, laughing at the notion. _Don't be ridiculous, it's a waste of time and money. A frivolous idea._

Her father remained silent, as he always did. Despite being the breadwinner, it was quite clear that her mother held dominance over him. Afraid to speak up, he never opposed of anything she said, and certainly never stood up for his daughter.

He was the sort of man to hide behind a newspaper, a man who left the room when things got ugly, choosing to listen to the radio or watch TV rather than engage in conflict.

_Your dream? _The woman continued, brow arching high. _Let me tell you something about dreams. They're not real, and nothing ever comes of them. _

_You don't think I'm good enough? _Lisa sobbed, distraught.

_Of course I do, which is why I want you to give up this foolish charade. I wasted the best years of my life chasing after a hopeless dream, I don't want that happening to you. _

The girl had always considered her mother a thoughtful person, trying her best to provide Lisa with a happy childhood. Her attempts at parenting may have been unsophisticated, but her efforts were always acknowledged.

Only when the teen began her internship did she finally realize how cruel and manipulative the woman could be. Playing with her daughter's emotions, twisting the knife into her soft gut, was the only way she could force Lisa into doing as she was told.

Her father was weak, and her mother domineering. The girl felt as though she should hate her parents, but she didn't. Despite everything, they loved her, and she loved them right back.

Sliding her key into the lock, Lisa used her free hand to twist the handle, stepping inside her empty house. Hanging her uniform on the coat rack, she made her way to the kitchen, heading straight for the refrigerator.

She wasn't particularly hungry, but felt the need to eat simply out of necessity. She'd surely collapse if she didn't feed her body.

Grabbing a slice of ham, she made herself a sandwich and sat down at the table to eat it. As she chewed, her eyes roved the many family pictures nailed to the wall.

There were several of her parents in their younger days, one depicting her father, back when he still worked in Brahms. Another showed her mother wearing a nurse outfit, smiling cheerfully outside Alchemilla.

For as long as she could remember, the Garland women had followed the common tradition of becoming nurses. Most of them attended Achemilla, though a few had migrated to South Vale, choosing Brookhaven instead.

Her grand-mother had worked at Cedar Grove Sanitarium for a short time. It had been an unpleasant experience for the woman, who struggled to sleep at night. By the time her second term arrived, she had already transferred to Alchemilla.

As expected, Lisa had succumbed to her mother's emotional blackmail, agreeing to throw away her aspirations of stardom in order to keep her satisfied. And she had been incredibly satisfied with her daughter's submission. A little _too_ satisfied.

Whatever reason her mother had for derailing Lisa's life remained a mystery. The woman never told her, and she never asked. It was a touchy subject, and she knew how angry her mother could get.

Swallowing the last bite of her meal, she rinsed her dish and placed it back in the cupboard, removing her jacket as she climbed the stairs to her room.

Running a hand through her auburn-blonde hair, the girl began to run a bath, watching as the suds began to rise. Lying on her bed, she listened to the soft trickle of running water. It was soothing, if not hypnotic, almost lulling the girl into a deep sleep.

A collection of envelopes sat atop her desk, most of which belonged to friends she hadn't seen in a while. After graduating, many of them had migrated to their respective colleges. She'd replied to a few, but most went ignored.

She hated to admit it, even to herself, but Lisa was embarrassed by how uneventful her life was. She felt as though it was going nowhere.

Slipping off her clothes, the teen cautiously poked the water with a hesitant toe, slowly sliding into the steaming depths. Resting her head against the wall, she allowed her entire body to be engulfed by the warm liquid, gazing up at the circle of light above her head.

When was the last time she had fun?


	4. Bloom

A week later, Dr. Kaufman approached Lisa for the first time.

She was sitting on a bench in the courtyard, doing her best to juggle a cup of coffee and her medical books. It was a much more mild morning, allowing the nurse to stay outdoors without the need of a jacket.

When she saw him approach, the girl placed her selection of books on the floor, blowing slightly on her hot beverage. She didn't particularly enjoy the powerful flavour, but the caffeine helped her stay alert.

Afraid to make eye contact, she stared at the pale grass beneath her feet, listening to the faint bustle of rush hour traffic. The roads were busy during the early hours, with people travelling as far as Shepherd's Glen to get to work.

Turning her head away from her superior, the teen found herself in a very uncomfortable position. Like the monsters that used to lurk beneath her bed, Lisa believed that if she couldn't see him, he'd eventually go away.

The man cleared his throat, 'Am I interrupting something?'

Summoning the courage to look round, the intern focused all of her attention on his chin, trying to give the illusion that she was staring him square in the face. She hoped he wouldn't notice how she was averting her gaze.

'No, not at all.' She breathed, silently cursing herself for being so timid. Why did she find him so damn intimidating?

Without a word, the much taller man stared at her for a moment, the mildest glimmer of curiosity in his stern features. Even when he was in a good mood, if that is indeed what this was, he still failed to deliver in the expression department.

'May I?' He finally spoke, gesturing to the empty spot beside Lisa.

Swallowing her pride, the teenager gave him a weak smile, somewhat irritated at his presence. Knowing that she couldn't say anything other than yes, the girl gave a wry nod, reluctantly inviting him to join her.

Tugging gently on his tie, Kaufman took the spot beside his employee, seemingly oblivious to the nurse shifting further up the bench.

Why now? She wanted to be left alone with her thoughts, her books and her coffee. It was the reason she'd arrived to work a half hour early than was scheduled. It gave her the time and isolation she needed to focus on her studies.

Sipping her steaming coffee, Lisa wriggled on the hard wood, feeling awkward in the silence that followed. She wasn't sure whether he wanted a conversation, or was merely enjoying a pleasant view of the garden. He didn't strike her as the scenic sort.

Crossing her feet at the ankle, she cupped the plastic cup with both hands, not caring that it was essentially scolding her sensitive palms. If she could concentrate on the searing pain, she wouldn't be inclined to look at Kaufman.

A sudden breeze blew in from the lake, causing her books to fly open. Lurching forward, the girl slammed a hand upon the thick paper, trying to prevent her notes from being whisked away. She'd been working on them all morning.

Placing them safely between her pumps, the teen sat back with a relieved sigh, her heartbeat pulsing rapidly against her chest. With the effort of bending over, Lisa's skirt had rode up her thigh, exposing more flesh than she cared to reveal.

Flushing, she quickly yanked it down, though not fast enough to prevent the doctor from getting a good look at her legs. It was the briefest of glances, but the girl was certain his eyes had lingered on her bare skin far longer than she found acceptable.

Hiding behind a curtain of hair, the intern began to nervously rap her nails against the cup, afraid to take a drink. As long as she had the coffee, her hands would remain busy. Without it, she'd find herself fidgeting.

'I'd like to have a quick word with you.'

He spoke so suddenly, and with such clarity, that it took all of Lisa's self-restraint not to jump. Holding her breath, she awaited the terrible news of her failure, firmly believing that he had come to relieve her of her duties. She always did believe she'd make a terrible nurse.

Clenching her eyes shut, the nurse began to conjure all sorts of unpleasant images in her head. What would her mother say? Would she be transferred to another hospital? She prayed it wasn't Cedar Grove.

Slowly placing one leg over the other, Kaufman sat back and folded his arms, much to Lisa's surprise. He was acting so casually that she couldn't believe he was the same stuffy, perpetually unhappy fellow that had crossed her in the elevator.

'Do you like working here?'

Taken aback, the girl took a moment to gather her composure. Was that a trick question? He could have asked for her name and she still would have faltered.

'Um, yes.' She mumbled, her grip going tight around the cup.

He seemed to consider this, running a hand beneath his chin. As she stared at his profile, the nurse thought he looked rather worn, as though a great weight had settled on his shoulders. Something about his hunched, tired appearance made him seem less frightening.

'You seem unhappy,' He finally said, gaze fixed on the bars of the fence. 'Not having second thoughts, I hope?'

She'd been having second thoughts since the day she began, finding it to be a constant uphill battle with her willpower. So far her needs had overwhelmed her wants, but that didn't stop the teen from feeling the way she did.

'No,' She shook her head, unable to convince even herself. 'I've just been feeling a little stressed lately, that's all.'

She eyed the pile of books at her feet, hoping that he'd get the message and leave. Yet even as she wished for this, Lisa felt a growing urge to say by his side, finding comfort in the company he brought.

Her life was somewhat lonely, dominated by work and sleep. Contact with the outside world consisted mostly of walking to and from the hospital, whilst the staff remained cold and distant towards her.

It seemed the only thing keeping her from going insane were the patients she cared for, and even that was limited to delivering meals and handing out medication. An opportunity had now arisen, and she was conflicted about how she should feel.

'Well, actually, that's not quite true.' Her pulse quickened as she spoke the words, unable to keep them from escaping her lips. 'I wish the other girls would stop treating me like a child.'

'They do, do they?'

'Yes, I'm fed up of it.' The intern's voice rose, teal eyes revealing a deep anger which had been bottled up for many years. 'All I'm good for is sweeping floors and serving drinks. I want to prove myself. I'm training to be a nurse, not a maid.'

'I see,' The man replied, failing to convey emotion.

By now the girl was frustrated, fingers going white as she gripped the plastic cup hard enough to make it crack. Hot coffee poured all down her hand, causing her to cry out and drop the beverage on the floor. Some of it splashed onto her books, turning the once white pages a dark brown.

Nursing her scolded hand, Lisa fought back tears. Everything was going wrong. No matter how hard she smiled, it never seemed to make her feel any better. Despite her outward optimism, inside she was weeping for all that she wasn't, and all she would become.

If only she had said no to her mother. Perhaps she could have joined an acting school? At least it would have more interesting than her current predicament.

Seeing the girl's distress, Kaufman reached into his suit pocket and removed a small, white handkerchief, gently wrapping it around her burning flesh. It was a simple gesture, but it managed to calm her down.

The man's hands were much larger than hers. They were also rough and callous, yet somehow reassuring. This was in stark contrast to his blank mien, which still refused to twist his solid frown into something more amiable.

She couldn't understand what he was trying to accomplish. He was helping her, that much was obvious, but his sour expression did not change, once again leaving the nurse just as confused as she had been before.

'You should be more careful,' His deep, commanding voice told her. 'What good will you be if your hands are damaged?'

She slowly pulled herself away from him, using her free hand to hold the handkerchief against her aching skin. The wind blew once more, but the pages of her books were stuck together, eliciting a sigh from the girl. Her mother would be furious.

Stooping to pick up the empty cup, Kaufman crushed it with his fist, throwing the crumpled plastic into a nearby bin. The coffee trickled along the paving stones, finding its way to the grass and seeping into the soil.

'Thanks,' She replied, wincing at the pulsing pain.

'You should soak that in cold water,' He gestured to her hand, still obscured by the handkerchief. 'Wouldn't want to get a blister, I'm sure?'

'No.'

Fumbling with the sleeves of his shirt, the doctor turned to leave, his fancy shoes making their trademark _clack_ upon the floor. Rolling his stiff shoulders, the older man paused to peer back at the nurse.

'Come and see me later, I may have some work for you.'

It was so unexpected that Lisa simply stood there gawking, her lips flapping uselessly as she tried to form words. After a moment of helpless silence, the girl gained enough confidence to finally answer him, deciding that there was really only one thing she could say.

'Thank you, I will.'


	5. Stem

After placing her damaged books inside her locker, Lisa rubbed some burn cream into her skin, feeling a faint smile curve her glossy lips.

Kaufman was giving her a chance. The man she'd found so intimidating was the only person who'd shown faith in her abilities. Perhaps he wasn't as bad as everyone made out?

Cheerfully heading for the elevator, Lisa felt a twinge of excitement at the prospect of finally being able to put her skills to good use. Though still reluctant to embrace the career, having an opportunity to do some real work was enough incentive to make her try.

She folded Kaufman's napkin into a neat square, promising that she'd drop by the laundry room before she left. The white silk was marred with coffee, and she felt obliged to rinse it out before returning it to the doctor.

Tucking it inside a pocket, she headed past a gaggle of nurses tittering about something. Gossip was never short in Alchemilla, and though she never partook in such conversations herself, the teen was often close enough to hear every word being spoken.

News stretched far and wide, relating to people and places alike. Some of the stories revolved around patients currently at the hospital, and although she hated the fact that confidentiality was being broken, the intern couldn't help but eavesdrop from time to time.

Upon noticing the young girl, one of the women called out to her.

Dressed in a pale blue cardigan, the older nurse waltzed toward the teenager, her brown hair held back in a tight bun. Scanning the clipboard in her grip, she threw Lisa an insincere smile, tapping a pen irritably against the paper.

'Miss Garland, be a dear and make the tea will you? We're all incredibly thirsty.'

Gritting her teeth, the girl tried to refrain from frowning, her fingers interlocking so the woman wouldn't see them clench. It was happening again, and she had to bite her lower lip to keep a nasty comment from escaping.

Making tea and coffee was not on her agenda, but as usual, she'd be bullied into it by the overbearing staff. She might have been young, but she wasn't stupid. They were taking advantage of her role as trainee, using it to twist the girl into doing what they wanted.

Lisa was sick of it.

The woman's words had drawn attention from other nurses loitering by the kitchen. All eyes were on her, and the teen could feel her poker face beginning to break. Part of her wanted to yell out in anger, whilst part of her refrained from doing just that, afraid of the repercussions it would bring.

'I..' She began, feeling her throat go dry.

Was it some sort of test? Did all the interns get treated this way? Frustrated, Lisa ran a hand along her forehead, feeling the distinct throb of a headache beginning to form. She didn't hear Kaufman approach until he placed a hand upon her shoulder.

'Miss Garland is not required to be your lap-dog.' He said, sounding slightly irritated, almost as if he had to scold them on a regular basis. 'I'd appreciate it if you would all get back to work. You're not being paid to stand around and chat.'

With a scoff, the elder woman headed for the medicine room, flipping through the pages of her clipboard. The remaining group abruptly scattered, many of them choosing to continue their conversation in the bathroom. Kaufman couldn't get them in there.

Rubbing at his temples, the opposing doctor released a grunt, at a loss as to how he was going to deal with their insolence. Female staff greatly outnumbered the male staff, proving to be quite a challenge when it came to making them do as they were told.

Lisa watched him curiously, wondering why he'd defended her. It wasn't that she was ungrateful, but she felt it strange that the man was only just beginning to realize she was there. It had taken him three long months. Why now?

Gesturing with his finger, Kaufman beckoned the girl to follow him, stopping outside the door to his office. Slipping a key into the lock, he turned the handle and slid inside, not even bothering to hold the door for her.

Gently pushing it shut, Lisa stood before the door, nervously shifting from foot to foot. The director pulled out a comfy chair, settling down with an air of control that sent shivers down her spine. It felt good, but she didn't know why.

The tiny room made her feel claustrophobic, but she tried to remain upright, forcing her hands to remain still. Exhuming confidence was something she'd learned from her acting class, though despite her best efforts, it didn't seem to be working.

Clasping his hands atop the desk, Kaufman stared at the girl.

'You look scared. Don't be, I won't bite.' Leaning back, he allowed himself to be consumed by the soft leather, releasing a deep breath as he made himself comfortable. 'My staff can be quite troublesome, I know. Sometimes even I have difficulty putting them in line.'

Slender fingers gripped her earring, subconsciously twisting it back and forth. She was a bag of nerves, having to force her eyes to remain on Kaufman's prodding gaze.

'How's your hand?' He asked, motioning to the patch of damaged skin.

'It's alright,' She replied, rubbing at her heated flesh. 'I'll return the handkerchief just as soon as I wash it.'

Taking inspiration from the various novels she'd read, Lisa wholeheartedly expected him to let her keep it. However, Kaufman merely gave a nod, assuring the girl that he did, in fact, expect to have it returned. She'd be visiting the linen room afterall.

'It was quite expensive, I hope it's not too damaged?'

She shook her head, 'No, I'm sure it won't stain.'

'Good.'

Removing a pen from his desk drawer, the older man began to scribble something on a notepad. From where she stood, the girl couldn't quite decipher the text, though she was impressed with his neat handwriting.

Three minutes passed without so much as a word, and the intern began to suspect she'd been forgotten. Shuffling her feet on the carpet, she tried to gain his attention without being forthright, scanning the small office inquisitively.

There wasn't much to look at, but it was better than looking at him.

'We're having some repair work done to the building.' His eyes were still firmly fixed on the paper, though his words were directed at her.

'Oh really?' It was a weak answer, but Lisa didn't know what he expected her to say.

'As of next week, the basement and third floor will be off limits.'

'Okay,' She followed his hand as it slid along the paper, carefully trailing each movement. 'But what about the patients, where will they go?'

He paused to glare at her, though the nurse wasn't sure whether he was angry or merely thoughtful. It could have been either, but she wasn't going to ask.

'Some of them will have to share rooms. The more able bodied residents are being temporarily transferred to Brookhaven and St. Jerome's.'

The girl considered this, believing it to be quite a distance for them to travel. Brookhaven was on the other side of town, whilst St. Jerome's was situated in South Ashfield. However, in comparison to it's neighbours, Alchemilla was quite a small hospital, and the girl understood that there wasn't enough space for everyone.

'Is there anything I can do to help?' She offered, remembering his promise of work.

'As a matter of fact there is.' He placed his pen down, once again clasping his hands together. 'I've a girl on maternity leave, we'll be needing all the help we can get. I'd like you to take up her post whilst she's away. If you do well, it may become a permanent position.'

The intern didn't respond immediately, under the mistaken impression that she'd misheard him. Then, as his words slowly sank into her mind, she found herself filled with a sense of elation, unable to prevent the smile that curled her lips.

Despite her joy, the nurse couldn't figure out why he was doing all of this. He didn't seem like the sympathetic type, nor did he strike her as someone with pity. She was just a kitten amongst cats, trying to learn the ropes against more experienced staff.

'Why me?'

'Because I see potential in you. Everyday you immerse yourself in those books, though I've yet to see you perform any real work. I want to give you a chance, see if you really know what you're doing.' He edged forward ever so slightly, rolling the pen between his fingers. 'But you only get one chance, so don't mess up.'

'I won't, I promise.' She meant it, despite not having much in the way of enthusiasm.

The girl left the office in a daze, dismissed by Kaufman once he was fed up of her company. Becoming a nurse wasn't something she aspired to be, but she certainly wasn't going to waste the opportunity he had given her.

Grabbing a glass of water to lubricate her coarse throat, the intern sat down in one of the chairs reserved for waiting guests. She felt light headed, adrenaline coursing through her veins from the sheer excitement of the news she had received.

Whilst overcoming her stupor, the same brunette nurse passed by, a mocking smirk on her unkind features. Lisa smiled right back, not a care in the world for what the nasty woman might have been thinking. She was going to be the best nurse she possibly could.

_Even better than you,_ she thought.


	6. Leaves

Lisa's mother was estatic with the news of her daughter's promotion, hounding the girl with more questions than she cared to answer. Her father was more reserved about the matter, offering a hearty congratulations for a job well done.

This bothered the girl, who felt as though she hadn't really done anything.

Pushing her fork around the plate, the intern struggled to take even a single bite of her food, fearing that she'd vomit if she attempted to do so. A loss of appetite had overtaken her, and though her mother's cooking always tasted good, the nurse was too nervous to try any of it.

A roiling sensation disturbed her otherwise empty stomach, but she couldn't quite figure out why. All she knew was that it had something to do with the mysterious doctor.

Sipping gingerly at her water, Lisa was able to convince her parents that she was too tired to eat. As terrible as the excuse was, it apparently seemed to work, and the intern promptly retired to her room, finding solace in the peace and quiet.

In reality she simply wanted to be left alone, tired of listening to her mother's babbling. The troubled teen had far too much on her mind to warrant listening to anything the woman had to say. She liked the attention, but the timing couldn't have been worse.

Closing the door behind her, the nurse felt some comfort in the knowledge that she wouldn't be disturbed. Her parents respected her privacy. She didn't need a lock on her door, as they were always kind enough to knock.

Turning on her bedside lamp, Lisa sat on the edge of her bed, the mattress creaking slightly beneath her weight. Resting her arms across her knees, the girl began to think of him, confusion and bewilderment leaving her in a mess of conflicted emotions.

She knew exactly what she was feeling, but tried her best to deny it, finding no logical reason as to why she would develop anything for such a cold and callous man. Yet even as such thoughts occurred, she felt her body warm with a strange jolt of adrenaline.

Sex was something of a taboo in her home, and neither of her parents wished to speak directly about the topic. Her mother all but ordered the girl to remain chaste until she married, a belief which Lisa held with contempt.

Boyfriends weren't forbidden, but to admit having one was more trouble than she deemed necessary. She wasn't as naive as her parents believed her to be, yet despite having been on numerous dates, the girl had never allowed anyone beyond first base.

Most of her relationships had been mere infatuations, short-lived crushes that never went further. Taking things to the next level was too much of a risk, and the constant fear of getting caught forever loomed above her head.

Things were different now, and Lisa wasn't sure she liked the direction her life was taking. Moist palms and a thumping heart were something which followed her around all afternoon, from the moment she picked up her water jug, to the moment she closed her locker door.

All day her head had been filled with thoughts of Kaufman, unable to discern just why she had suddenly formed an attraction to him.

The man was remarkably unremarkable, with features that she normally wouldn't consider handsome. He had a terrible attitude, being somewhat anti-social and mean. It made the girl question her own motives, pondering why she felt the way she did.

Misplaced affection perhaps? He was, afterall, the only person who had made any effort to treat her kindly. More so than even her own parents.

Shaking her head, Lisa knew this wasn't true. She had formed many excuses, none of which held any reliable ground. The simple fact was that everything negative about him seemed so alluring to her. It was inconceivable, yet that is what it was.

Her head spun wildly as she came to terms with the revelation, feeling an uncomfortable sensation of sick anticipation and building repulsion line her gut.

It wasn't that she found the idea of Kaufman so revolting, but rather the concept that she could fall for such a disagreeable man so quickly, and all because he'd given her a handkerchief. It was completely ludicrous.

The girl was well aware of how idiotic it all sounded, like a soppy romance novel in which happy endings were still possible. She scowled at the thought, yet remained unable to shake such thoughts of him from her mind.

Frustrated, the nurse began to restlessly pace back and forth, trying to keep herself busy with small chores which temporarily subdued her wandering imagination. A speck of dust here, a wandering sock there; all gathered up and swept away.

But her room was immaculate, and she finished her cleaning rather quickly. Soon, she found herself thinking of him again, a sense of guilt crushing the air from her lungs.

Sitting at her desk, the teen slowly rocked back and forth on the hind legs of her chair, staring at a selection of books on the shelf above. She wasn't a big reader, but every so often she got the urge to pick up a novel and immerse herself in the world of fiction.

Her eyes fell on a black, leather clad diary sitting in between two books. It had been a gift for her fourteenth birthday, but the girl had never felt the need to use it.

Now that she had something she wanted to say, the troubled intern was thankful for the opportunity to release the words she found herself unable to form. With no close friends to confide in, the only way of confessing her turbulent emotions was through pen and paper.

Grabbing the journal from it's place on the shelf, the redhead nestled down in her seat and peeled back the front cover, inhaling the aromatic scent of crisp, fresh paper. With pen in hand, she slowly began to stain the unsullied page with layers of black ink.

The girl had so many things that she wanted to express. All of her pent up rage and sorrow pooled onto the paper like dirty tears, leaving random blotches dabbed here and there.

Yet Lisa didn't stop. Even when her wrist began to ache and her eyes grew heavy, she still continued to scrawl, fearing she would burst if their words were not immortalized in some fashion. Her story had to be told, if only to a book.

Every passing second was filled with the soft scrape of skin on paper, her heart thumping excitedly as she was finally able to express herself.

As it got dark, the nurse switched on her table lamp, only pausing to get a glass of water from the kitchen. By the time night had arrived, she'd dozed off, waking only when a soft knock roused her from sleep.

Sitting up with a start, she heard the familiar croon of her mother's voice push it's way through the walls. Clearing her throat, she carefully closed her journal and opened the door, allowing the woman inside.

With only one lamp illuminating the dim room, everything appeared cast in shadow, forcing the girl to quickly switch on her ceiling light so as to shoo the darkness away. Upon noticing her mother's gaze eyeing the diary, Lisa carefully sat back down to guard it.

'I just came to say goodnight,' She smiled, staring at the leather book.

The girl blinked back an urge to yawn, 'You're going to bed?'

'Yes,' The woman chuckled. 'It's almost five past ten.'

Looking at her clock, the girl was surprised to find that her mother was right. She'd been asleep for quite a while. Rubbing at her drowsy eyes, the teen got to her feet and gave a little laugh. She'd lost all track of time, far too engaged in her new hobby.

'Sorry, I've been a little distracted.'

Her mother gestured to the journal, 'I can see.'

'You bought this for me two years ago, remember?'

'I do,' The woman nodded. 'I'd almost forgotten about it.'

She sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs at the ankle and inspecting her child. Lisa always hated being under duress, particularly that of her mother's scrutinizing gaze. Whether it was a compliment or not, the girl wished to be left alone.

'What are you writing about?' Her mother queried, curious.

'Um, my promotion.' The girl blurted without a thought. 'It's a special occasion, something worth writing about.'

It wasn't a lie, as Lisa really had been writing about her newly acquired position. What she didn't admit to, however, was the unwanted sensations that strange man was beginning to make her feel. They remained strictly her secret to keep.

The bed groaned as her mother got up, a warm smile on her aging features. With a gentle hand, the woman ran her palm down the girl's pale cheek, slowly pulling her into a soft embrace and planting a firm kiss on the teen's forehead.

'You're such a good girl,' She said, trailing slender fingers through layers of strawberry hair. 'I always knew you'd make me proud.'

With one last hug, the woman turned to leave, carefully closing the door behind her as she did so. Releasing the breath she'd been holding, Lisa swiftly dashed to her door, pressing an ear against the wood and listening for her mother's presence.

There was something unusual about the way she was behaving, and though the teen enjoyed receiving the attention, it also made her wary. Love was something her parents did not often portray, and whenever they did, it worried the girl.

Sometimes she failed to recognize whether such actions were controlling or genuine, finding the thin line that ran between them blurry and unclear.

Nervous, but certain that her mother would not invade her room without permission, the nurse covertly hid her diary beneath her mattress. If it were to be discovered, she would most certainly get into trouble for feeling something her parents deemed inappropriate.

Removing her cardigan and folding it neatly into her drawer, the girl began to undress for the night, getting into a pair of pajamas and clambering into bed. She didn't bother turning the light off, somehow afraid of what the dark would bring.

It was odd how she could feel so tired, yet be so awake, and despite the serene silence, all that could be heard was the heavy throbbing of her pulsing heart.


	7. Entry 1

_March 4th 1976_

_My entire body is on fire. There's a strange heat in the pit of my belly, burning lower and lower until it begins to tingle. I tightly shut my legs and try to squeeze it away, but it never stops throbbing._

_That man is much older than me. He's even older than my father. I know it's disgusting and it feels so wrong, yet it leaves me with a strange quiver of adrenaline. I feel drawn to him. Even as I'm writing this my palms are moist and my throat is dry._

_His voice is harsh like gravel, erecting goosebumps on my skin. Whenever he is near, I can feel a shock of electricity igniting my soul. I splash cold water on my face, though it does little to ease my rising temperature._

_He's not married, or if he is, then he chooses not to wear his ring. I noticed this when he nursed my burn. At first it didn't really concern me, but now that I think about it, I'm kind of glad. I'm not sure why, but it fills me with a sense of relief._

_His handkerchief is still in my possession. I forgot about it until just now, but I really must wash it when I get the chance. Not here though, where mom can find it. She'll ask too many questions. Pry into my business. I don't want that._

_Will he be mad? _

_I said it wouldn't stain, but it probably will. It is coffee, afterall. Silk is expensive, and I don't have the money to replace it. But he gave it to me, so surely he knew what would happen? Regardless, I'll wash it with the rest of the laundry tomorrow._

_There are days when I still yearn for my past. Singing, dancing, performing on stage. Not a moment goes by when I don't ponder what could have been. Yet I am also happy to receive the opportunity that has arisen. _

_I'm young, but I'm not stupid. I've studied hard for this, I deserve a chance to prove what I can do. Maybe now I'll be able to help those people. Wrap bandages and clean cuts. Stitch wounds and sooth burns. Real help, not simply providing them with food and medication._

_When I told mom about the job, she was overjoyed. She couldn't stop talking about it. Anybody who saw her would have thought she was the one getting promoted._

_It's ironic, really. Despite craving her attention, I felt strangely empty upon receiving it. A hollow victory, that's all. She praises me when I do well, but I rarely ever accomplish the impossible standards she sets for me. _

_This is the first time in weeks that I've done something she's proud of. If it weren't for her, I could have been elsewhere right now. I could have gone to university with the rest of my friends. I wouldn't feel this crippling loneliness creeping up on me._

_I'd be free._


	8. Filament

Placing Kaufman's handkerchief inside the washing machine, Lisa took one last look at it, sincerely hoping she wouldn't further damage the fragile item. Closing the door, she poured in all the necessary powders before switching it on.

Leaning against the opposite wall, she folded her arms and watched as the linen spun round in a continuous, dizzying cycle. She'd ensured that all the white laundry went in together, so as to avoid colours mixing.

Her initial plan was to leave the hanky and come back when everything was complete. However, as she listened to the machine's rhythmic _whirr_, the nurse found herself reluctant to leave, afraid that something terrible might happen if she did.

All morning she'd been on edge, as though cleaning a handkerchief was somehow more important than her job. She had yet to catch a glimmer of the elusive doctor, but it was early, and she was beginning to learn that he had other priorities.

The wall clock ticked idly by, enveloping the desolate room in it's noisy mechanical sound. It was as irritating as it was welcomed, allowing her to focus on something other than the growing knots in her stomach.

She'd arrived at the hospital an hour early, under the pretense that she was being given an induction by the director. Her mother seemed to accept the story, completely oblivious to her daughter's lies. If she suspected Lisa of being unruly, she never said it.

It was tiresome trying to continuously keep up the facade of a good child. Since leaving school, she'd had little interaction with the outside world, and was beginning to miss the more carefree days of her youth.

Time seemed to pass so quickly, and though she was still only seventeen years old, the intern longed for a more adventurous lifestyle. The humdrum existence she led was nothing but unsatisfying, and she trembled at the thought of becoming her mother.

No, Lisa refused to settle for anything less than what she expected. Unlike her parents, who dated briefly and wed far too soon, the nurse wanted to experience love, revel in lust and defy everything her parents believed her to be.

She knew exactly what she wanted.

She wanted _him_, but even she could not bring herself to admit it.

Her entire body was pulsing again, both cheeks burning as her thoughts wandered into dangerous territory. Alone in the tiny room, she allowed herself a moment to divulge in her secret thoughts. Tempting fantasies which remained sealed away in the depths of her psyche.

The air grew heavy with a musky, masculine scent; a strange cologne which wasn't pleasant, yet enticed her nonetheless. She inhaled deeply, remembering the empowering aroma, letting it's spicy, strong flavour invade her nostrils.

Next she thought of his skin, rough and worn. It brushed against her soft flesh, grazing the tips of her fingers ever so slightly. It almost tickled. Yet they were busy hands, weathered by years of work. She liked that.

Finally she pictured his face. Unattractive though strangely alluring. His sunken eyes and stiff jaw line suitably becoming of him. She was smitten with his rugged features, finding them inexplicably captivating.

His overly expensive suits and high priced shoes were an attempt to appear middle-class, though wearing a mask proved fruitless before those who knew him personally. And as nobody really knew him that well, this extended mainly to his staff.

But Lisa wanted to know him. She wanted to tear off that mask he wore, rip away the clothing that obscured his soul, savour the tender sugar of his intimate secrets.

Breaking out in a flurry of sweat, the girl fell into a crude squat, cringing into her damp palms as she clenched her thighs tight shut, praying for the pulsating heat to subside. Her breath came in quick, short bursts, eliciting a pained groan as she collapsed onto her knees.

She stayed there for some time, gazing mindlessly at the oppressive grey tile. However explicit her daydreams were, and however much she enjoyed having them, it didn't stop the teen from feeling relentlessly guilty about her own sexuality.

None of her past boyfriends had ever had such an effect on her, and Lisa deeply feared that she was becoming aware of her own body, even as she rejected the notion.

Kaufman was a monster of a man, which only seemed to increase her desire. There was something arousing about his superiority, in the way he veered through an empty world with such blatant disregard. It filled her with excitement.

Without warning, the door to the linen room clicked open, revealing a stocky doctor whom Lisa was not familiar with. Startled, she remained frozen in place, her arms clasped defensively around her chest.

Wearing a stethoscope around his neck, the dusty blonde gave her a quizzical look, seeming almost surprised to find her. Only when the girl got to a shaky stand did he rush to provide her with assistance.

'Are you okay my dear?' He asked, his voice low and compassionate. Well practiced.

'Yeah, I think so.' She replied, allowing him to help her up. 'I'm just feeling a little light headed, that's all. I skipped breakfast this morning.'

He slowly shook his head, supporting her with an outstretched arm. 'You should go and get some rest. Have a bite to eat, it'll make you feel much better.'

'I will,' She nodded, offering a weak smile.

'It's all good and well helping those in need, but if you're not careful, you might end up in one of those hospital beds yourself.'

'You're right, I promise I'll take better care of myself.'

The washing machine ground to a halt, plunging the room into an abrupt silence. The nurse felt she was becoming more adept at lying, though she wasn't proud of it. Folding her hair behind an ear, she focused her attention on the damp laundry.

Doing her best to ignore the lingering doctor, she removed the soggy bedding and shoved it in a dryer, careful to keep the tiny handkerchief separate. There were no instructions on how to dry it, and the nurse was afraid it might burn from the heat.

Clueless, she decided it was better to be safe than sorry, covertly cupping the hanky in the palm of her hand. Switching on the machine, she turned to face the waiting man, feeling as though she were interrupting something.

'Am I in the way?' She enquired, shifting to the side.

'Not at all,' He laughed, searching through a basket of clean sheets.

Lisa didn't know what he was looking for, and she didn't really care. She'd done what she needed to do. Briefly thanking him, the girl swiftly fled the room, not even bothering to ask the man for his name.

It was her embarrassment at being found on the floor, drenched in beads of sweat, which forced the teen to run, ashamed of how uncouth it all must have seemed. The doctor appeared none the wiser, but that didn't make her feel any less humiliated.

Clenching the wet hanky in her hand, the intern made her way down the stairs, feeling an icy draught cool her warm skin. Each step echoed off the walls, thumping around inside her skull like a blaring, invasive siren.

Pausing outside the second floor, she inhaled large amounts of cold oxygen, forcing her quivering body to relax. Drops of water splashed onto the floor, dripping from the wet silk laced between her fingertips.

The handkerchief held a faint brown hue, though it fared much better than when it had first been stained. Slightly disappointed with the outcome, Lisa headed for the first floor restroom, squeezing the hanky over the sink until it stopped leaking.

Sealing it inside her locker, the nurse hoped it would dry before her shift ended. She was itching for an excuse to see him again.


	9. Ovary

Lisa slumped at the desk, face dejectedly cupped in her palm as she scribbled messy notes on a clipboard. Her crossed leg bobbed up and down as she drew her hand along the paper, feeling deflated with every word that touched the page.

Her initial hopes of seeing Kaufman had been dashed upon learning that her induction would be performed by a senior nurse. It made her concentration waver, and though she tried to remain alert, the intern's eyes were constantly searching for the evasive man.

Yet she had no time to mourn his absence, for there was work to be done, and the girl had been swept off her feet with a long list of duties that had all but exhausted her energy. It was amazing how tiring simply changing bandages could be.

There were now a number of specific patients in her care, many of whom had very debilitating illnesses. Most were no trouble to the nurse, but seeing them in such a state was nothing short of distressing.

Pushing her emotions to the back of her mind, she pushed herself forward, determined to make their life as comfortable as possible. It made her job marginally easier, though changing soiled bedspreads still proved a challenge.

Finishing off her report, the girl placed her pen back in the holder, standing up to return the clipboard to it's rightful place. The examination room was quiet, disturbed only by the muffled sounds drifting in from beneath the door.

Gathering up a dirty syringe and numerous empty packets, the teen disposed of the garbage appropriately, thoroughly rinsing her hands in a nearby sink once she'd finished.

Taking blood was the one thing she'd been terrified of doing, always fearing she'd be unable to find a suitable vein to insert the needle. Everything had gone smoothly however, further reassuring Lisa that she was, in fact, a perfectly capable nurse.

Reaching her arms above her head, she extended her limbs as far as she could, letting all the tension escape from her body. With a pent up groan, she released her stretch, relaxing into a comfortable sag as she breathed a sigh of relief.

The room was cold, and she tugged her cardigan shut, contemplating her next course of action. It was almost dusk, and her shift was coming to an end. The weekend was near, and Lisa began to wonder what she would do with herself.

It occurred to the teen that she'd wasted much of her free time studying, and though she continued to skim through her medical books at lunchtime, the intern was in no mood to spend another saturday cooped up inside her drab bedroom.

Heading back to the desk, she pulled open a slim drawer and removed a crumpled poster, laying it flat on the wooden surface as she examined it more closely.

She'd torn it from a wall during her morning commute, keeping it safely concealed in the examination room. Even if it had been discovered, she had absolutely nothing to hide. Afterall, it was just a scrap of paper.

_Artaud Theatre presents: The Rise And Fall Of Doctor Faustus, Saturday 6th March at 2PM. Book your tickets now!_

It had been many years since she'd last set foot in the theatre, and she suddenly had an urge to visit her old haunt. Fondling the poster with delicate hands, the girl considered purchasing a ticket to see the show.

An abrupt click of the opening door made her panic, and she spun round to obscure the poster from view. It was a natural reaction to her parents' constant prying, and the nurse found old habits difficult to break.

Slouching against the desk, her posture immediately changed when she saw Kaufman walk in, his hands fumbling with a slightly twisted tie. When he noticed her, the intern stood rigid, pale cheeks flushing red.

'I wasn't aware you were here,' The man spoke, eyeing her awkward posture. 'Forgive me, I should have knocked.'

'No, it's alright. I was just finishing up.'

Turning her back on the doctor, Lisa busied herself with a stack of papers, gathering them up into neat piles. She'd already organized the paperwork, but trembling hands had to be kept busy. She prayed he wouldn't dwell on her blush.

From behind her, she could hear the rattle and clank of bottles being shifted. As he meddled with the cabinet, Kaufman began counting out loud, mentally taking note of which medicines he would need to restock.

'How'd it go?' He asked from the cupboard, removing a purple jar. 'Not too difficult, or did you prefer sweeping floors?'

Glancing back, the girl briefly met his eyes, quickly averting her gaze to the floor, 'It's tiresome, but I've enjoyed it. It beats making coffee all day.'

He never replied, and the teen wondered whether he'd heard. Returning to her immaculate desk, she took hold of the poster and tried to covertly place it back in the drawer, annoyed at having to treat it like illegal contraband.

It was a scrap of paper, nothing more. Yet years of being pestered by her mother had led the intern to be cautious. She wasn't forbidden from attending the theatre, but her parents certainly didn't like her wasting money on it.

_There are better things to invest in,_ She would always say.

_But I enjoy it,_ Lisa would reply.

_It's just a bunch of people prancing around in silly outfits like high class clowns._

The woman never understood the artistic merit of such a performance. It was too much effort for her to try. In the end, the girl gave up all attempts to convince her mother, accepting the fact that she would never view it in quite the same way.

'What's that?'

The doctor's voice was low in her ear, startling the girl. She'd let her guard down for a second too long, not realizing that he was now right behind her. She spun to face him, that warm, throbbing pulse resurfacing once again.

Before she could answer his question, Kaufman grabbed the poster from her grasp, holding it firmly in both hands. He'd snatched it with such force that he'd almost torn the fragile paper in half, angering the girl.

'Are you fond of the theatre?' He enquired, still examining the advert.

Lisa gave a nod, 'Yeah, but I haven't been in a while. My mom thinks it's a waste of time.'

He scratched his chin thoughtfully, finally returning the poster to her. Tugging on the hem of his jacket, the man crossed his arms and watched Lisa, his expression so uncommonly benign that it troubled the nurse.

'You're face is terribly red.'

Sucking in her breath, Lisa struggled to keep her composure, feeling both cheeks burn even brighter now that he'd made such a comment. Clearing her throat, she carefully placed the poster back into the drawer.

'I'm just hot, it's warm in here.'

Though her back remained turned, the teen could still feel his eyes on her, sense them roving up and down her body as she leaned over the desk to gather up her notes.

Had he sussed her out? She wasn't sure. He could have asked her what size shoes she wore and her flesh would still have flared. He didn't need to do much of anything to make her body react. Simply thinking about him was enough.

Just that morning she'd been slumped on the floor, unable to control what her body was desperately seeking. Just thinking about it made her squirm. The man she was dreaming of was right there in the room, and she no longer knew how to react.

With a small pad pressed to her chest, the intern gave the man a swift smile, 'I'm done for the day. I'll have a written report ready by tomorrow.'

As she passed, the girl inhaled his strong cologne, closing her eyes as she let it rush to her head. She recognized the aroma. Her father wore the same brand, but it seemed to smell different on Kaufman. Strong and powerful.

With slender fingers enveloping the handle, she paused, trying to think of something to say. Her embarrassment was clear, but trying to defuse the situation would only make things worse. Slowly shaking her head, she pulled the door open.

'One moment Miss Garland.'

Swallowing her nerves, Lisa shut the door and faced Kaufman, her fingers rapping neurotically against her notepad. Her heart was beating like a hummingbird's wings, and she began to wonder if he could hear it pounding.

He slowly paced towards her, hands swinging by his sides as he approached. He wasn't so much tall as he was stocky, and his presence was very imposing. She backed up against the door, despite the sizeable gap between them.

'I'm quite the avid theatre goer myself. I don't normally do this, but perhaps you'd like to accompany me to the performance this Saturday?'

Stunned by his invitation, the girl could do nothing but stare, lips moving silently as she struggled to form a reply. At first she assumed it was a cruel joke, unable to fathom the prospect of being on friendly terms with the man.

Rubbing at her stiff neck, she stammered hopelessly over her words, feeling stupid and inept. It seemed impossible to answer a simple question, leaving her confused and conflicted as she desperately thought of a good answer.

'Well?' He offered again, checking his watch.

He'd put her on the spot, and in a panic she blurted, 'Yes, that would be nice.'

Lowering her head, she started fumbling with the pages of her pad, reading through her notes, flipping through messy scribbles, anything to avoid his piercing gaze. Her answer was the result of pressure, but it was what she had honestly wanted to say.

With a fleeting smile, the doctor reached forward to grab the handle, their faces almost touching as he came close. When the door pushed against her, she stepped aside to let it open, bumping into him as she did so.

'S..sorry,' She clumsily stammered.

He brushed invisible dust from his suit, 'Not to worry, it was an accident.'

The man entered the gloomy corridor, leaving the girl without so much as a farewell. He stopped to converse with another doctor in the hall, not even bothering to acknowledge her. As he disappeared around the corner, the nurse exhaled the breath she'd been holding.

It was as though they'd never met, like the nurse was just some stranger he'd seen walking down the street. It made her feel abandoned, as though her existence meant nothing to him.

Frustrated, the girl stormed into the bathroom and dumped her notepad on the floor, keeling over the sink as she splashed icy water on her flaring skin. It soaked her dress and pooled on the floor, but she didn't care.

Even despite everything, she still wanted him.


	10. Entry 2

_March 5th 1976_

_Something unusual happened today. Doctor Kaufman asked me if I'd like to accompany him to a performance at Artaud Theatre. I'm not sure how I should feel about that. It's not a date, and there certainly wasn't anything romantic about our interaction._

_But if it isn't a date, why does it feel like one?_

_Perhaps he feels sorry for me? Is it an act of pity? I never considered him the compassionate sort. I'm also not sure if I want his sympathy. _

_I'm scared, and I'm confused. _

_I want to believe that he's doing this to get closer to me, that perhaps he feels the same way. But what if he did? Surely it isn't proper for a grown man to behave in such a manner? _

_But if I'm being honest, I'd find it flattering._

_When I bumped into him earlier, my skin tingled. When he came close, I tensed up. He noticed me blushing, and I cursed myself. He probably just thinks I'm a foolish child with some silly infatuation. Maybe he's right._

_Tomorrow the play debuts. I'm excited, yet also apprehensive. He hasn't told me what to expect. He hasn't said anything. Surely he won't turn up on my doorstep? Am I supposed to meet him at the theatre? Will he phone? I've no idea._

_Nothing that man does makes any sense. I'm constantly being yanked back and forth like a dog on a leash. Sometimes he's nice to me, but he can also be cruel and insensitive. What is it about him that makes me fluster?_

_He's the greatest puzzle I've ever encountered, and only time will tell if I can solve him._


	11. Ovule

Lisa woke with a start, having dreamt of flesh and sweat. She saw the image of two bodies intertwined, writhing and clawing and gasping for air. Their faces were stained with ash and ember, unidentified yet familiar all the same.

Pulling herself into a seated position, the girl breathed in long and deep, gazing at dawn's light as it beamed through a crack in her curtains. It was still early, but she couldn't get back to sleep. She was afraid.

'What's happening to me?' She whispered, resting her face in her palms.

Pearls of sweat trickled down her spine, soaking her clothes and glossing her flesh. Her chest heaved with the force of her expanding lungs, inhaling vast amounts of oxygen that never seemed to be enough.

She placed her bare feet on the soft carpet, letting the comfortable material engulf her toes. Her entire body was damp, drenched in beads of perspiration. It was cold now, but she knew it had been hot before.

Lifting up her arms, she peeled the top over her head, embracing the cool air that swarmed her sticky skin. Dumping it on the floor, she got to her feet and slid off the trousers, recoiling when more droplets dripped down her legs.

Panting heavily with each step, the teen burst into the bathroom with such force that the ensuing vibration shook the walls, causing a selection of toiletries to clatter upon the floor.

Collapsing on the hard tile, Lisa let her knees burrow into the painful surface, collecting the various bottles that had rolled noisily along the floor. Her heart thumped as she desperately tried to remain silent, not wanting to wake her parents.

Returning them to their rightful place, the teen sat on the edge of her bathtub, shivering in the chilly morning air. Goosebumps swam along her legs, erecting the tiny hairs that lived on the surface of her skin. She shuddered, though it wasn't from the cold.

Dreams were unusual things, and the girl had never tried to understand them, but now that she was becoming aware of her sexuality, they were beginning to linger like the distant drone of a wailing siren, forever present, if slightly dulled.

Slowly rising to her feet, Lisa peeled back her underwear, unclasping her bra and slipping off the straps, dumping them in the laundry basket.

Every inch of her being carried the musky scent of someone smothered in old sweat, and as she inhaled the thick scent that lay on her flesh, the nurse felt a heavy weight settle on her chest. It was a compound of guilt, frustration and fear.

She felt immensely shameful for suffering from such fantasies, yet she knew that somewhere within her lay a burning passion which longed for them to come true. The creeping terror that followed was a direct result of her alienation.

Strange though it seemed, Lisa felt as though she had taken on a new persona. The person she was and the person she was becoming, were two very different creatures. One was a naive young girl with innocence and clarity, whilst the other was a sensual, alluring woman blinded by lust.

Wrapping both arms protectively around herself, the nurse stood in the centre of the bathroom, slowly swaying to and fro. After a moment, she broke free from her stupor and walked to the sink, turning on the tap and letting a warm stream of water flow into the bowl.

Splashing it across her flushed cheeks, the teen gazed up into the mirror, glimpsing into her fatigue ridden eyes. Gripping the cold porcelain, she pushed herself upright, examining every line, blemish and bruise that marred her gleaming flesh.

The mirror was small, but standing back allowed her to get a better view of her body. The girl would never care to admit it, but she'd paid particular attention to her figure over the past four years, watching as it bloomed into that of an audacious young woman.

There were many things she admired about her figure, and many more she despised. Her arms were too skinny, her hips flat and forlorn, without hint of any noticeable curve. Both shoulders held a natural slump that came from her timid disposition, whilst her legs were shapely and long.

Slowly rotating so as to get a good view of her back, the nurse's eyes roved up and down her body, analysing every arch and dimple, every beauty spot and bruise, culminating in her gaze resting on the gentle curve of her neck.

Lifting a hand to her throbbing pulse, Lisa imagined his lips sending soft kisses along her throat, trailing across her breastbone as rough fingers caressed her aching shoulders, reassuring and firm, dissolving all of her doubt in one swift movement.

Sucking in a breath, she shook herself free from the memory of her dream, grabbing a fresh towel from the door hook and dousing it in warm water. She desperately sought the soothing rain of a cleansing shower, but feared the gushing water would wake her parents.

Carefully, cautiously, she ran the towel over her sticky flesh, scrubbing mercilessly at the layer of sweat still soaking her ashen hue. The fabric brushed painfully against her breasts, causing her to wince, yet she continued to scrape away the evidence of her lust.

Dragging the coarse material up her legs, Lisa began to tremble as she neared her core, afraid of what she might if she drew close. Her body was demanding things that she simply could not give, mounting her urges into a mountain of frustration.

Like a volcano, she was ready to erupt.

Leaving the towel in the bathtub, she returned to her room and sank to her knees, curling her hands into tight fists as she tried to control her thoughts. The rug beneath her was soothing and soft, delicate against her raw skin.

Every inch of her body wriggled and writhed, suffering in agony from the force of the towel grazing against her limbs. She had scrubbed too hard, leaving ugly, flaring marks on her soft and sensitive shoulders.

Broken skin bled above her bellybutton, scarring her abdomen. She ran tender fingertips along the surface, wincing when it burned beneath her touch. Placing an arm across the wound, she staggered to her wardrobe, feeling the need to dress.

She quickly rummaged through her clothes, this time opting for a breezy night dress. Without bothering to find a bra, she pulled the dress on over her head, pulling down the hem to ensure it covered every inch of her bare back.

Grabbing a fresh pair of panties from her drawer, she quickly slid into them, shamefully burrowing herself beneath the bed sheets like a naughty child who had wet the bed.

The night seemed heavier than usual, almost as if the darkness itself was condemning her. For what, she did not know. It was natural to feel such emotions, experience such desires. Yet the teen felt terribly culpable about it.

As she lay there, trembling and confused, the girl could only think of one thing. It bore through her skull, rattling every inch of her brain, preventing her from sleep.

After many years of abandoning her first love, she was finally able to revisit the theatre. Yet as exciting as that was, she couldn't fathom any real joy from it. For all her enthusiasm lay a deep seated fear. A fear that stemmed from worry. A fear that stemmed from him.

Even if it were only a casual date, perhaps even a friendly attempt at pity, Lisa knew she would always want more. As she lay beneath the covers, letting her thoughts run wild, the teen realized how dangerous it was for her to fall prey to her own heart.

His scent was enough to send her senses reeling, and merely being in his presence drove her teetering on the edge of a mysterious abyss. She was certain that should she fall in, there would be no way to climb back out.

Becoming a slave to ones own passion was forbidden, but Lisa knew she was weak, both in mind and in spirit. He had complete power over her. She was his to do whatever he so pleased, and the nurse doubted her own ability to fight back.

That scared her the most. Unwavering loyalty, blind faith, and the realization that she would do anything to keep him near.


	12. Style

After a restless night of tossing and turning, Lisa was finally awoken by the wail of her alarm clock. For a moment, she contemplated letting it ring, but the rattling drone made her head pound, forcing the girl into action.

Her limbs heavy with lethargy, she stumbled out of bed, dragging her duvet behind her. It was cold, and she was reluctant to leave the sheltering warmth enveloping her. Reaching out an arm, she slammed the top of the clock, silencing it.

Despite her exhaustion, the teen was unable to return to bed, knowing that her mother would surely come knocking if she wasn't down in time for breakfast. It was frustrating, but that's just the way her household functioned.

A traditional family, Lisa's mother was determined to uphold the sickeningly sweet image portrayed in magazines. An outdated, old fashioned picture of perfection. Everybody had to be smiling, everybody had to be ideal.

The intern was never allowed to sleep late, even on weekends. If she failed to be up and dressed by nine o'clock, the fierce woman would waltz up the stairs and bang on her door, ensuring she get ready.

Illness was the only exception, and as the nurse didn't get sick very often, she rarely had an excuse to stay in bed. It seemed unfair to the girl, who was constantly pandering to her mother's selfish demands.

Rubbing at her heavy eyes, Lisa bravely shed her blanket, wrapping both arms around her fragile frame as she shivered from the chill. Curling her toes against the biting temperature, she gazed at the clock for a moment. It was almost eight. Too early.

Without even bothering to dry her damp hair, Lisa simply ran a towel over her strawberry locks, dropping the towel on the floor once she was finished. Slipping into clean undergarments, she donned her dressing gown and headed downstairs.

The girl's parents were already waiting for her, seated at the dining table with a teapot placed between them. At first they welcomed her with warm smiles, but those heartfelt gleams soon vanished the moment they laid eyes on her attire.

Without a word, the intern seated herself comfortably in her chair, tucking her dressing gown beneath her as she sat. Running a hand through her damp hair, she reached for the cup and saucer reserved for her, sending a deluge of water along the wooden surface.

Gripping the handle with both hands, Lisa poured the murky brown fluid into her teacup, adding a dash of milk and sugar before stirring it. With tight lips, she absently slammed the spoon against the rim, not realizing the force of her own irritation.

'Stop it.'

Her mother placed a hand over the top of the cup, a stern expression on her aging face. Despite being older and more mature than the infant she had once been, the disapproving tone of her mother's voice still resonated with the girl.

'You're daydreaming again.' She snatched the spoon from her daughter's grip, dumping it on the tray with a clatter. 'This set is priceless, you should be careful not to break it.'

Staring mindlessly at her tea, the nurse cupped her hands around the warming china, failing to understand what was so remarkable about it. The design was plain and common. She'd seen it many times before.

To Lisa, it was nothing but an antique, a constant reminder of how her ancestors forever lingered in the house. They would always plague her wherever she went, teasing and tormenting the girl for the decisions she had made.

She took a sip, scowling. Despite it's sweet flavour, the girl was left with a bitter taste on her tongue. Everything seemed to irritate her that morning.

'Are you hungry?'

She shook her head, stomach turning at such a question. She was far too nervous to eat, unable to muster any enthusiasm for her dying appetite. Even to think of letting food pass her lips was enough to send her pallid.

But the teen knew that refusing her request would bring an unwanted lecture from the bothersome woman. Breakfast was, afterall, the most important meal of the day.

Lisa beamed at her parent, two dead eyes betraying the otherwise pleasant notion. Her mother didn't see this. She rarely ever saw anything. Selective vision, that's what Lisa called it. The woman only ever saw what she wanted to see.

'Perhaps I'll have a slice of toast.' She replied.

'Toast, is that all?' The middle-aged woman's face fell, an expression of discontent clouding her features. 'But you're so skinny. I really wish you'd eat more.'

Fists hidden beneath the tablecloth, the nurse bit her lower lip, feeling sharp nails grazing the flesh of her knees. There was never any sort of satisfaction to be had with her mother. Eating too little, eating too much. It was all so frustrating.

'Then make it two slices.' The intern forced through a grimace.

Slathered in butter and slightly overdone, Lisa had to pick carefully at the bread, forcing back the growing urge to gag. A cough followed every chunk that slid down her throat, settling like a rock at the bottom of her stomach.

When she was finished, the intern slowly shoved the plate away, sitting static for a few moments whilst she let her meal digest. A thick, heavy sensation settled at the back of her throat, nauseating the girl.

'Thank you, I feel much better now.' She mumbled, getting to her feet. 'May I be excused?'

'Why, where are you going?'

The nurse froze, feeling the last remnants of her patience beginning to ebb. Where? Why? What? How? When? Always questioning, always acting as though her precious little girl was still a dependent babbling baby.

'I'd like to go for a walk. Maybe visit the bookstore.'

Curious, the woman studied her daughter closely, carrying a slight suspicion. Even at seventeen years of age, the girl still relied on permission from her mother. Without it, she was every bit as trapped as a caged animal.

Glancing at her silent, unassuming father, she felt that familiar fury welling up inside.

Say something, anything! Defend me! Stop being such a damn doormat!

Even as those words crossed her mind, Lisa immediately regretted them. She may as well have been gazing into a mirror, for the man was nothing but a reflection of her bad traits. Withdrawn, quiet, cowardly. Could such things be inherited via DNA?

'Don't be out too late.' Her mother finally spoke, running a towel across the now clean plate. 'Dinner will be ready at the usual time.'

Taking the stairs slowly, careful not to seem too excited, the intern shut her bedroom door, leaning against it for a brief moment as she released the breath she'd been holding. Lie. She had told a lie. White, but a lie nonetheless.

Taking the handkerchief from her drawer, the young woman heaved a sigh. Once again, she had forgotten to return it. Fondling it's comforting silk, she fought back the urge to cry, not wanting to soil it again.

She wasn't angry. Nor was she sad. Her tears were born from the desperation of a hopeless situation. Lisa wanted to blow all the life out of her lungs, spew out the very words that clung to her lips and stifled her screams. She wanted to be honest with her mother.

But she couldn't. She was merely a bird without a voice.


	13. Stigma

**AN: John Coleridge is completely fictional in terms of canon. Also, I'm not quite sure how old Frank is, but I presume he's somewhere around fifty in Downpour. I'm going to assume he'd be in his early twenties during the seventies.**

* * *

An hour had passed before the mirror, trying on every outfit she had in her posession. Dresses and skirts were piled high upon her bed, whilst a slew of shoes lay sprawled in a messy heap beside the door.

Nothing she wore looked appropriate, making the teenager resemble a child as opposed to the young woman she was becoming. Ironic then, that her work scrubs revealed more flesh than anything she happened to own.

Short hair often made girls look older than they were. Despite her youth, Lisa's appearance was that of a woman in her twenties. It was a decision she had specifically made in order to appear more mature. But though looked like an adult, she certainly didn't feel like one.

Long skirts, baggy trousers and thick cardigans decorated her hangers, moth ridden and dusty from disuse. There was no need for her to even possess such items, never having any time to wear them. Nor any friends for her to socialize with.

Time ticked idly by, with the neurotic girl fumbling to find a decent outfit for the occasion. It all seemed so surreal, like a distant dream beginning to fade with the coming of dawn. Her hands were tingling, her pulse dancing quicker than the flap of a hummingbird's wings.

She wanted to look nice for him. At the hospital she was so dowdy, with dark circles and a bland, forgettable air about her. The other women wore make-up, styled their hair, carried themselves with exuberant self-esteem.

Lisa may have been good at feigning confidence, but inside she was forever shrinking. One day she feared her soul would completely vanish, leaving an empty shell behind.

Shaking free the crushing thoughts that threatened to dampen her day, the teen finally opted for a simple red dress. Crimson had always suited her. Everybody agreed that it matched her strawberry blonde locks perfectly.

Adorning them with a pair of white slip on sandals, she set about styling her now-dry hair. She thought about leaving it loose, letting it shape her almond face as it usually did. However, after much deliberation, the girl decided to knot her bob into a small bun.

Without hair to obscure her features, the teen found herself looking much more like an adult. Every inch of her face was defined; Cheekbones, forehead, slender neck. No longer hidden beneath her fair hair, the nurse was surprised to see her own attributes shine.

Running both hands down her hips to smooth out any crease marks, she ogled the petite, lithe figure writhing beneath the fabric, further accentuated by the style of dress. She'd always thought herself a little too skinny for such clothes.

Opening her drawer, she removed a small storage tin. The cold metal disturbed her warm fingers as she plucked at the lid, taking a generously sized matchbox from within. The distant, vaguely pleasant aroma of sulphur invaded her nostrils.

A mischievous grin illuminated her soft face, two rosy lips eliciting a soft laugh as she began to rummage through the matches. A sliver of excitement bubbled in the pit of her stomach, churning as she realized what she was about to do.

_I'm becoming such a rebel, _she mused, retrieving a secret tube of lipstick concealed beneath the matchsticks. It had been a gift from one of her old school friends, an act of kindness overshadowed by her mother's strict limitations.

The girl had been saving it for three long years, unable to confess it's existence to her parents. Knowing it would be confiscated should she tell them, Lisa had opted for simply hiding it away, hoping she would eventually find a use for it.

Slipping off the hollow lid, she stared at the beautiful scarlet within, finding it a waste to let something so precious go unused. The tip was slightly smudged from where she had previously tried it on, testing the strength of it's deep hue.

Now, however, she was finally willing to take the next step. Her heart fluttered as she accepted her own challenge, snatching up a black handbag and dropping the stick inside. Neatly folding the slightly stained handkerchief, she carefully placed it atop the forbidden fruit.

Running through her plan as she descended the stairs, the nurse bid farewell to her parents, giving them a reluctant peck on the cheek as she left. Though she didn't feel much like hugging, the girl wanted to deflect any sort of suspicion.

Painting a smile on her face, she slid out of the front door, grinning all the way down the street. Perhaps it was paranoia, but she got the distinct feeling that she was being watched. The net curtains swayed ever so slightly as she glanced back.

_Go ahead, watch me leave. _The girl defiantly thought, pivoting on her heel as she carried on walking. _One day, I'll be gone for good._

She was early. The show didn't start for another three hours. Rather than heading straight for the theatre, Lisa instead took a detour down Koontz Street, arriving at the door of Andy's Books. She hadn't planned on visiting the store, but decided to have a browse regardless.

As she entered, the bell above the door rang, alerting the clerk of her presence. From behind the counter, a middle-aged man smiled at her, bringing back many pleasant memories.

Despite it's name, the shop wasn't actually owned by anyone called Andy. It had been at one time, until the man retired. Now it was owned by his son, a friendly man by the name of John Coleridge. He'd been Lisa's boss during her time as an employee.

'Well if it isn't little Lisa Garland!' The jovial man exclaimed, reaching out to shake her hand. 'I haven't seen you in years. Thought you'd left town.'

She shook her head, releasing his clammy hand. 'No, I've just been really busy. When you're an intern at Alchemilla, there's no time for recreation.'

John looked her up and down, examining her mature figure. If it were anybody else, the teen would have been disgusted, but Coleridge was merely admiring the young woman she had become. Lisa knew there was no lust in his eyes.

Running a finger down the crisp spine of a nearby book, the nurse inhaled deeply. Even after several years, the air still carried a faint aroma of must and paper. It was a pleasant sort of scent, filling the woman with warm feelings of nostalgia.

Removing the heavy novel, she skimmed through the pages, feeling them curl beneath her fingertips. Before she started her internship, the teenager would often snuggle beneath her bed sheets and get lost within the depths of fiction. Now, in these melancholy days, she was far to exhausted to read anything.

'So, you're a nurse now?' The man asked, resting his body against the counter.

'Trying to be.' She replied.

'I remember when you wanted to be a star. Every week you'd count up your wages, trying to save up enough money for those acting classes.' The man thoughtfully scratched his chin. 'Kids can be so fickle, always changing their minds.'

Lisa's knuckles turned white as she tightly gripped the cover, threatening to crease the seamless surface with her trembling hands. The man was unaware of how badly his words affected her, yet each syllable was like a knife to the heart.

_I didn't change my mind,_ She thought to herself, gnawing on her lower lip. _My mind was changed for me._

Though it wasn't his fault, John had unintentionally hurt the girl's feelings. All the resentment and regret she had tried so hard to repress came flooding back, dampening her previously optimistic mood.

She'd put so much time and effort into achieving her dream, saved up her miniscule wages for months, placed her aspirations on a pedestal that she was never going to reach, then watched as they all came crashing down.

It just didn't seem fair.

Her emotional wounds hadn't ever fully healed, and as she ambled around with book in hand, the girl decided that they probably never would. Though she'd tried to move on, it was difficult for her to forget. She had, after all, thrown away a brilliant opportunity.

'Well.' She said, trying to change the subject. 'Let's hope your son is able to accomplish his dream of becoming a police officer.'

'Corrections officer, actually.' The man beamed proudly. 'But regardless of what Frank chooses to do with his life, I'll always be here to support him.'

Lisa smiled, though it was empty and forced. She didn't feel much like talking anymore. John was a nice and accepting man. She only wished her own parents could be the same way.

Placing the book back on the shelf, she swiftly plucked out an old copy of _Watership Down_. Handing it to Coleridge, she removed her purse and counted out the correct change, placing it in his palm as he helpfully placed the purchased novel into a bag.

It wasn't that she particularly wanted the book, but Lisa knew that returning home empty handed would only raise questions. Besides, she suddenly felt very claustrophobic in the cramped space. She needed an excuse to leave.

'Thanks, Mr. Coleridge.' She said, earnestly.

'Leaving so soon?' He quizzed, seeming disappointed. 'We've barely had time to catch up.'

The nurse opened the door, once again clanging the bell as she prepared to exit. Looking back one last time, she threw her most sincere smile at the kindly man, accepting the fact that she would probably not see him for quite some time.

'I've got a lot of errands to run, but it was lovely seeing you again. Best of luck with the business, I'll pop by some time for another book.'

Giving him one final wave, she left the tiny shop with a cheerful grin, waiting until the latch clicked into place before dropping her façade. There was little to smile about, especially after being reminded of how she'd so easily abandoned her goals.

_If I had the chance to go back,_ Lisa thought to herself, head low as she trudged up the street. _I would do things very differently._

But nobody was ever able to truly alter the past. As she realized this, the teen stopped and gazed down at her clenched hands, remembering the handkerchief that sat in her bag. She wasn't a child anymore, and she wasn't going to be treated like one.

I may not be able to change the past, but I can determine my own future.

With a satisfied smile, she headed for the theatre.


	14. Sepal

_Watership Down_ was something of a depressing tale. As Lisa sat on a nearby bench, she gingerly turned the crumpled pages of her new book, remembering how saddened she'd been upon first reading the story. It was, and still remained, one of her favourite books.

The trailing breeze lifted loose strands of her pale hair, irritating the teen, who had to keep tucking them repeatedly behind her ears. Though she wasn't exactly cold, her soft flesh began to tremble beneath the creeping wind.

Already halfway through the novel, the intern began to wonder whether Kaufman was ever going to show. It was almost two, and so far she'd not seen even a glimpse of the mysterious doctor. It worried the nurse, who began to fret that she was being stood up.

Impatiently tapping her foot, the girl put the book away, unable to concentrate on the mass of words any longer. Many people came and went as she perched on the wooden seat, lining up to watch the performance that was due to start.

It occurred to Lisa that she and Kaufman had never actually agreed on where to meet. Being his usual blase self, the intern began to wonder whether it was natural for him to treat all of his appointments this way. He certainly wasn't punctual.

Subconsciously running a hand across her lower lip, she traced the layer of lipstick she had recently applied, fighting the urge to slide her tongue across the surface. It was a difficult task to accomplish without a mirror, and she prayed no remnants remained on her teeth.

A mass of knots formed in her stomach, twisting her insides like the angry writhing of a viper's nest. Palms suddenly moist, she felt her cheeks burn as couples came and went, feeling rather out of place amongst the jovial atmosphere.

She recognized this feeling. It was jealousy. A nagging, biting envy which she hadn't felt for such a long time. It almost seemed alien to her.

Lisa wanted to be like those carefree girls, laughing as they embraced the arm of their dates, blissfully unaware of the world that flowed around them. She wanted to hold someone close, and be held in return. It was a persistent yearning which thumped irritably against her chest.

Was he the sort of man she could do that with?

As her thoughts began to wander, the familiar figure of a suit clad man appeared on the horizon, Stiff and solid, with arms swinging firmly at his sides. Though far away, the intern knew it was him simply from the way he carried himself.

Wiping damp palms on the side of her dress, the teen fought the urge to bite her nails, finding it to be an unusually neurotic act which she wasn't prone to performing. Nervous, she began to fidget with her hands, trying to find a comfortable stance.

Placing them behind her back felt awkward, so she cocked her hip, resting one hand on her purse and the other on the slant of her pelvis. It was a stance which felt odd to the nurse, who wasn't at all used to slouching.

For a brief moment she considered waving to him, then promptly caught herself in the act, quickly lowering her hand. Not wanting to appear eager, she instead settled for a warm smile, hoping that he'd notice the colour decorating her lips.

The director stopped before her, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt as he paid little attention the woman standing before him. As she waited, Lisa's eyes examined the grey suit he was wearing, crease free and expensive, much like the mans taste.

Even now, he's dressed like a professional.

The intern grew slightly annoyed that he was paying her no heed, preoccupied with plucking specks of dust and lint from his pristine clothing.

It had taken her hours to select the perfect outfit. He'd merely chosen the first thing he found hanging in his closet. Hours wasted before the mirror accounted to nothing, and suddenly, the girl felt overdressed.

'It appears I'm a little late.' He spoke, rumbling voice ragged like the sound of rocks. 'Forgive me, I had some errands to run.'

The teen felt a wave of tension leave her the body as their eyes met, her knees going weak as gravity suddenly came crashing down. Her pulse thrummed as she stood in silence, waiting for him to react. Everything seemed to slow down, except for her speeding heart rate.

'You were waiting long?'

She shook her head. 'It's alright, I had a book to keep me company.'

The man's gaze shifted from her face to the bag, billowing slightly in the passing breeze. Once again, Lisa felt slightly vexed that he hadn't made a single comment about her appearance, wondering if she had misinterpreted his intentions.

'May I?' The man asked, reaching behind her to grab the bag sitting solemnly on the wooden bench. The girl didn't try to stop him.

Removing the weathered book, he scrutinized it's cover, tilting it this way and that, as though it were something he had never seen before. Clearly unimpressed, the man handed the novel back, throwing his employee a curious look.

_'Watership Down?'_ He questioned, fumbling with his tie. 'Isn't a children's book slightly below your reading level?'

Lisa was taken aback by his comment, unsure of how to react to such a statement. It wasn't a children's book, and she grew irritated by his ignorance. Irked, she scowled disapprovingly at him, snatching up the bag from where it lay.

Feeling sheepish all of a sudden, the nurse wished she'd have chosen something which didn't have rabbits on the front cover. A Charles Dickens novel, or something by Stephen King.

If she'd have known he was going to mock her, the intern would surely have picked a story so unpredictable, that even he would be shocked to find her reading it. Instead, she'd made herself look more like the very child she was trying to outgrow.

Exasperated, Lisa turned away from the man, pouting as she slipped the bag under her arm. 'The show's about to start, we'd better hurry.'

Lining up at the ticket booth, the nurse reluctantly opened her purse to retrieve what little change she had left, dejectedly sighing as she rummaged through a selection of coins. Upon seeing her struggle, Kaufman placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

'What are you doing?'

Initially confused, the girl blinked at him. 'I'm paying for my ticket.'

Shaking his head, the doctor slid his hand into a pocket, retrieving his leather wallet and removing a note from within. With the slightest smile, he turned and bought two tickets, handing one to the teenager, who hesitantly accepted.

'Th...thanks.' She stammered, not expecting any sort of generosity.

Making their way towards the main stage, Lisa could feel the older man's gaze lingering in her peripheral vision, his eyes analysing her entire body as she moved. Hiding behind her lashes, the teenager pretended not to notice.

He held the door open for her, and the nurse stepped into the large auditorium, seeing the room for the first time in many years. Memories came flooding back, striking her heart with pangs of welcomed nostalgia.

She trailed her fingertips along the seats as she passed, recalling each and every one she had ever sat in. The flowing red curtain obscured the stage, separating reality from fiction. The air smelt fresh, carrying the scent of childhood.

Nothing had changed. Not a single thing. It was as though she was still that little girl, perched on the edge of her chair as the ongoing show mesmerized her. Sights and sounds surrounded her tiny frame as she became completely immersed in the play.

It felt good to be back in her special place.

Traversing row after row of chatting customers, the pair finally found their seats, stumbling down the aisle as they headed for the correct chairs. Snuggling down into the cozy fabric, Lisa rolled her shoulders back, releasing a satisfied sigh as she was finally able to relax.

If I don't make it to Heaven, this is as close to Paradise as I am ever going to get.

'You look different.'

Kaufman's voice broke her from her stupor, causing the nurse to sit upright. Peering at the man from the corners of her eyes, she tried to make sense of what he'd said.

'Different?'

He nodded, 'It's the first time I've seen you out of uniform. I must admit, I'm rather impressed.' He ran a finger down the sleeve of her dress. 'That colour suits you well.'

Without warning, he placed one hand on her chin, holding her head firmly in place whilst he used his free hand to wipe a sliver of smudged lipstick from her jaw. Rubbing the substance between his fingers, the director gave her a soft smirk.

'You really have surprised me, Miss Garland.'

Lisa was more confused than she'd ever been, twisting the strap of her handbag as she tensed beneath his touch. It was a pleasant sensation, though it also filled her with caution. Once again the man had returned to being somewhat charming, catching her off guard.

Head swimming with a flurry of contradictory thoughts, the teen found herself unable to decipher the man's mixed messages. One minute he was deriding her, the next he was showering her with unexpected compliments. It was all so complicated.

'Can I ask you something?' She quivered, swallowing the lump in her throat. 'Why are we here? Why did you ask me to come here with you?'

He seemed thoughtful, almost as though she were stupid for not realizing the answer. 'It's not unusual for a man and woman to attend a show together, is it?'

'Um, no but..'

'I don't know anyone who enjoys the theatre quite as much as I do.' He replied, angling his body towards the girl. Tenderly petting her hand, the man grinned. 'Besides, I find your company to be quite pleasant.'

His rough hands massaged her soft flesh, kneading the bones of her knuckles as she stared absently at the slow circle his thumb was making. Was this a date, or wasn't it? His actions were so complex that they placed doubt on the teen.

Lisa was nowhere near brazen enough to ask him, and even if she did, the intern doubted she'd get a straight answer. The doctor spoke in white lies and riddles, never truly saying what he intended to be said.

Sitting back, she allowed him to caress her fingers. It filled her with a contrasting sense of both pleasure and pain, lulling her into a sense of security whilst also putting her on edge.

Lost in thought, she didn't notice the man trying to clamber over her feet. As his shoe caught hers, he fell forward, spilling his drink over Kaufman's hand. Jolting upright, she yanked back her legs, wincing at the sprinkle of water that splashed onto her dress.

The man apologized profously, wavering back and forth between continuing on his way and begging for forgiveness. The doctor responded with an irritated grunt, assuring the man that everything was fine despite his burning eyes betraying such words.

Gathering up his almost empty cup, the embarrassed man scuttled off. Lisa was left wondering what to do, afraid that Kaufman would get angry and storm out. Watching him shake his hand free of water, she suddenly remembered the handkerchief in her possession.

Rummaging through her bag, she removed the neatly folded square and unravelled it, carefully placing it atop her boss' hand. The man eyed her intently, watching as she gently wiped away the remaining specks of liquid.

'Here,' She said, handing him the soggy hanky. 'I did clean it, but now it's all damp.'

The man let out a low laugh, 'I'd forgotten about this. It seems you kept your promise afterall.'

The girl nodded, placing both hands in her lap. 'Yes. I would have returned it sooner, but I forgot I had it.'

'Slightly discoloured, however.' He replied, examining the faint mark that marred the material.

'Sorry,' The teen swallowed, feeling foolish. She'd assured him that it wouldn't be permanently stained. 'I didn't think that coffee would be quite so difficult to get out.'

Kaufman glanced at her for a moment, sunken eyes carrying little more than a casual curiosity, before neatly tucking the square of fabric away inside his pocket.

'Nevermind,' He said, attention now on the rising curtain. 'I suppose it can't be helped.'

Without another word from his lips, the intern sat back and curled her fingers into her palms, trying to keep her breath steady as she sucked air through her nostrils. Though she was eager to watch the performance, Lisa didn't think she'd be able to keep her concentration.

She wanted him to touch her again.


	15. Entry 3

_March 6th 1976_

_I placed the ticket under my pillow. I plan on hiding it just as soon as I find a more suitable location. Mom wasn't best pleased with my behaviour, and though I tried to deflect her questions, some of them were difficult to answer. . _

_I wiped the lipstick off before I got home, but still she seemed to study my face for a long period of time. Eventually I was able to convince her that I took a long walk through the town, even showing her the novel I'd bought. _

_I'm not sure she was entirely fooled, but it got her out of my hair for a while. _

_Kaufman never walked me home. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't expected him to, though it's certainly not surprising that he didn't. The man departed without so much as a goodbye, fading once more with the horizon. I felt a little silly, almost abandoned, just standing there amidst the scattering crowds. _

_But I suppose it's better that way. If mom had seen the two of us waltzing to the front door, I would have struggled to provide an adequate explanation. Despite my previous bluster, I'm still afraid of defying my parents. Especially my mother, who I reluctantly ended up apologizing to. When I saw her face, the courage in me vanished as swiftly as it had arrived._

_Regardless, I enjoyed being able to attend the theatre again. I haven't been in such a long time, I'd almost forgotten how happy it made me. For the first time in what seems like an eternity, I was finally able to breathe. It was as though a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders, allowing me to be a normal woman, and not someone who had to to live up to her parents' expectations. _

_Yet still I ponder about that man. What is he up to? He caressed my hand, and I melted beneath his touch, letting myself be enveloped by the pleasant sensation. But nothing is ever clear, and I'm always left feeling confused and irritated. _

_It's as though he's placed a chain around my throat, a leash that keeps on getting tighter whenever he and I are in proximity to one another. He snaps his fingers, and I fall at his feet like a loyal lapdog, waiting for his next command._

_The whole situation is very jarring, and though I try to put such distracting thoughts out of my mind, I always find myself thinking about him. Every hour of my life is spent wondering what he's doing, where he is, if he's thinking of me like I am him._

_Our time together has only made my feelings grow stronger, and if I'm being honest, I sincerely hope that he shares the sentiment. _


	16. Pistil

**AN: I'm not quite sure how many milligrams a standard dose would be, so I'm assuming that 20mlg is the standard for PTV. Also, the method of actually taking it isn't detailed, so everything I've written is speculation.**

In the weeks that followed Lisa's theatre visit, renovations on the hospital finally began. The teen was preoccupied mostly with shifting patients in and out of the hospital, helping the more able bodied folk into ambulances where they were promptly transferred.

It was very demanding on her fragile frame, and the intern's feet were beginning to blister from the strain she had placed on her soles. Each night she found herself soaking them in hot water, trying to ease the loose flesh that had been eroded by her pumps.

Eventually she'd taken to plastering band-aids on her raw heels, wincing whenever she caught the sagging, limp skin that peeled feebly away.

Diligent workmen came and went, lugging heavy equipment to and from the elevator. Ladders, paint, white sheets and tools littered the now empty halls, creating a remarkable echo that seemed to reverberate throughout the entire structure.

Dirt and muck marred the men's clothes, torn and tattered from frequent use. As they passed through the hospital, a dwindling scent of gloss and metal remained in the air, mingling with the heavy aroma of bleach. They worked long hours, leaving just after dusk had fallen.

A notice was given to all staff, informing them that they were forbidden from entering the third floor and the basement. The nurse had noted that nobody, hired or otherwise, had set foot in the dark expanse of the basement. She considered it somewhat odd, but merely assumed that they were going to work on one floor at a time.

Trips to the laundry room became more frequent for the young intern, and it soon became the only place that she could truly relax. The staff lounge had become a breeding ground for gossip, and listening to the soothing clunk of washing machines was more preferable.

She would spend hours just watching the multitude of colours whirling round the drum, finding the dizzying kaleidoscope rather somniferous. It lulled her into a drowsy, heavy-eyed state, leaving the intern yearning for sleep.

Kaufman barely aknowledged her, and when he did, it was usually to bark orders. Lisa wanted very much to speak with him, but she was so busy that the girl simply didn't have time. Her duty to the patients came first, even though her heart was screaming.

During lunch periods, she would often wait around for the austere director, hoping that he might join her on that same bench where they first spoke. On occasion, he would pass by and greet the girl, though it was with a cruel detachment one would give a stranger.

Gripping a cup of lukewarm coffee, the teen grew accustomed to disappointment, lowering her head as she dropped her tepid drink into the nearest bin.

Lethargy constantly ate away at her, like a greedy wave devouring soft grains of gentle sand. Caffeine did nothing to lift her sodden spirits, and though she welcomed the challenge that her job now brought, Lisa was unprepared for just how taxing it would be.

She was always exhausted. Even when attempting to study, which she had promised her mother she would do each night, the weary intern was unable to remain conscious.

One morning, whilst running errands for a patient, Kaufman requested that Lisa meet him in his office. This took the intern by surprise, and the neurotic teen found herself constantly rinsing moisture from her alabaster hands.

Despite the prominent chill, her body began to sweat acutely, borne from a mixture of both fear and excitement. Fumbling with her collar, the girl ran a hand through her lustrous hair, twisting her earrings as she reached toward the door.

Though intimidating, the nurse found herself more comfortable in the doctor's presence than she had been when they were initially introduced. Yet in spite of her newfound confidence, she still had difficulty letting her guard down.

She wanted to call him by his first name, but was afraid of what would happen if she did. The last thing she wanted to do was anger him.

_Besides,_ She thought, choking on her own uncertainty. _It's not as if we're dating. We're just..._

What were they? Lisa couldn't answer. She simply didn't know. Closing her eyes, the teenager gathered her resolve, sensing the rough oak beneath her knuckles as she slowly rapped on the door, each one more amplified than the last.

'Enter.'

With a trembling sigh, Lisa turned the handle, the clicking latch sounding like a grenade that had violently exploded. Stepping inside, she softly shut the door, biting down on her lower lip as she waited for the man to speak.

A thick layer of noise settled on the air, producing an uncomfortable prickle that invaded her ears. The buzz and crackle of a soundless room seemed to oscillate, thinning out as the barely audible sway of clothing disturbed the hub of silence.

The man was staring directly at her, deeply scrutinizing the intern's threadbare appearance. Clearing her coarse throat, the young woman diverted her attention to an unusual plant sitting contently in the corner, having never noticed it before.

A tall glass jar was filled with milky water, a selection of thin stems protruding from the rim. Beautiful white flowers blossomed at the ends, looking so very brittle that merely poking them would tear the precious petals limb from limb.

'Bored already?' The husky man quizzed, almost impatiently.

Lisa coughed, suddenly dry. It wasn't that she was mesmerized by the plant, but rather that she hadn't expected Kaufman to be the sort of man who took an interest in flora.

'Sorry.' She earnestly replied. 'It's just that I've never seen one of those before.'

For a moment, the doctor contemplated her response. With a subdued grin, he interlocked his fingers, leaning back into his chair. 'Yes, White Claudia is a rarity. It only grows near water. There's an abundance of it around the lake.'

'Oh,' The girl replied. 'I didn't know.'

'In any case, I have more pressing matters to discuss. Please, have a seat.'

He gestured to the chair in front of his desk, and hesitantly, the woman approached. Cautious, she slowly tucked her skirt beneath her as she sat, crossing both ankles and resting her hands in the middle of her lap.

'Don't look so scared.' He said, sounding slightly amused. 'I'm concerned about your health. that's all. You don't look well. Are you getting enough sleep?'

The nurse opened her mouth to speak, then changed her mind. Shaking her head, she clenched her fists and fought the urge to yawn, not wanting to appear rude. In truth, she was on the verge of collapsing.

Dark circles had appeared under her eyes, the ugly purple veins conflicting with her naturally ashen skin. Rosy cheeks further emphasised the discolouration, and an uneven sleep pattern had prevented her from rectifying the problem.

'Perhaps I'm putting too much pressure on you.' He began, opening his drawer in search of a particular item. 'You're still young, afterall.'

Panic struck the young woman as she listened to his words, dread welling up inside her as she pondered what he was about to say. Crossing her fingers, the girl prayed that he wasn't about to relieve her of her duty.

_Please don't fire me._ She repeated, over and over again. _Please, please don't fire me._

Removing a small vial from inside the drawer, Kaufman placed it atop the desk, sliding it along the polished surface to the waiting nurse. Without moving to take it, Lisa examined the strange fluid inside, curiously wondering what it was.

'Take it.' He said, watching as the teen slowly reached for the bottle. 'It's a relaxant. In it's current state, it has to be injected directly into the blood stream.'

The intern balked, swallowing the lump in her throat. Removing the lid with a _pop_, she peered at the scarlet liquid swirling around inside. It had an unusual odour, floral but with a hint of copper. She gingerly sniffed it, then scowled at the repugnant stench.

'I'm not sure about this.' She confessed, placing the vial back on the desk. 'It seems a little dangerous. I don't even know what it is.'

The man observed her wearily. 'I'm a doctor aren't I? Trust me, it's in your best interests to accept my offer. You'll feel much better afterwards .'

Lisa was still dubious about the product, unable to stomache the concept of putting the abnormal substance into her bloodstream. The jar lacked a defining label, and she couldn't be sure exactly what the side effects were.

On the other hand, she was desperate to feel like her old self again, heavy eyes threatening to drag her into an endless oblivion if she didn't get the sleep she so desperately sought. Kaufman was a doctor, and an experienced one at that. He knew what he was doing.

'Take it.' He repeated, giving the bottle a shake. 'I give you permission to take a syringe from the storage closet.'

'But sir, isn't that stealing?'

'Consider it a favour.' He said, leaning forward to take the girl's hand. Placing the vial in her palm, he gently curled her fingers around the glass. 'Use it tonight, before you go to bed. Twenty miligrams should do it. I guarantee you'll feel the effects in the morning.'

His hands were warm against the humidity of the room, leaving a lasting heat on the intern's cool skin. There was something unusually suspicious about the exchange, but the offer was tempting enough to lure the nurse into taking it.

'You're a good worker,' He said, chair creaking softly as he laid both elbows on the arm rests. 'It would be a shame for all of your efforts to go to waste.'

Letting her gaze settle on the man, Lisa tightened her grip on the murky jar. In the dim light that filtered from the exposed bulb, the crimson liquid almost seemed to shimmer. Anxious, the teenager inhaled deeply.

'Can't you at least tell me what it is?'

Her persistent questions seemed to irk Kaufman, though the glimmer of annoyance soon faded, replaced with a friendly beam. 'It's an experimental drug called PTV. Quite harmless in small doses, it merely helps to relax nerves and encourage sleep.'

'And it's safe?' She queried.

'So long as you stick to the recommended dosage, yes.'

She blinked, thinking long and hard about her decision. The director was someone she wanted to please, even if it meant doing things that she might not entirely find agreeable. Eschewing her dismay, the woman lifted her chair to rise.

'Thank you, I'll be sure to use it.'

Pivoting on her heel, she reached for the door handle, vial safely cupped in her closed fist. As she began to open the door, the doctor called out to her, stopping the girl in her tracks. Pausing, she peered at him from over her shoulder.

'This is our little secret, Miss Garland. A gift. Keep it to yourself, okay?'


	17. Staman

**AN: Oh boy, I had to do a lot of research for this chapter. I have no idea how to inject drugs, which means I had to use google to find out. Let's hope the cops don't come knocking on my door! Anyway, I tried to be as accurate as possible. **

**Thanks to everyone for their reviews, you really encourage me to continue writing.**

Concealed inside the cramped storage cupboard, Lisa rummaged through a selection of boxes, trying to find a syringe and needle which she could use to inject the PTV. With the vial safely tucked inside her pocket, she breathlessly searched the shelves.

Her heart was thumping wildly against her ribs, pounding against her torso like a caged animal desperate to escape. She was taking a huge risk by sneaking equipment out of the hospital, and Kaufman made it unmistakably clear that she should refrain from being caught.

Staff would frequently wander into the closet, disturbing the already perturbed nurse. With a clipboard in hand, she would pretend to perform a stock check, trying to remain as indifferent as possible. It was a difficult task, as she wasn't particularly skilled at feigning her emotions.

Most of her co-workers were polite enough to greet her with an obligatory_ hello_, and she reciprocated with a smile. For once, she was thankful that nobody made any further attempts to communicate, afraid that her knees would buckle and her resolve fade.

The teen had spent all afternoon fretting over whether or not to actually follow the director's orders. If she so wished, the girl knew she could easily dispose of the liquid. It was as simple as pouring it down the drain, throwing it in the trash, or even returning it to the man.

Discarding it wasn't an issue. What bothered her was the realization that she was willing to do something simply because Kaufman asked her to.

Sighing regrettably, the intern finally found what she'd been seeking. Grabbing the illicit item, she held it firmly between the clip board and her chest, pressing them tightly against her torso as she made to exit the claustrophobic space.

By now it was dark, the subdued lights casting forboding shadows along the walls. Pumps squeaking on the polished surface, Lisa made her way to the locker room, abandoning the clipboard on the counter as she passed.

It was empty, a sight which she was more than relieved to see. With the syringe case in hand, she nervously hurried to her locker, opening the cool metal and taking a small satchel from within. Placing the syringe inside, she took a moment to eye the suspicious vial.

It seemed to have deepened in colour, having acquired a burnished carmine that almost appeared black in the shade of her silhouette. Removing her cap, the girl placed it inside her bag, shielding the items from view.

Slipping on her jacket, the teen headed for the foyer, signing out before stepping into the cold breeze that whistled through the onyx sky. Such a strong gust threatened to steal away the air from her lungs, forcing her to cringe against the powerful blow.

Though it was a harsh gale, the teen embraced the frosty wind, allowing the cold to bring some form of clarity to her muddled thoughts. As she pushed her way through nature's wrath, Lisa had a moment of reflection.

She existed only to fulfill her mother's wishes, letting the woman tug at her strings like a mad puppeteer. Adhering to the rules and regulations bestowed on her, the nurse had wavered through life, a broken marionette.

Friends migrated, time passed, and seventeen years flew by in a vague haze. Countless days were wasted before the window, ogling her friends as they giggled, laughed and jauntily skipped down the road, free to do as they pleased.

Smiling sincerely, her peers would hold their boyfriend's hands, looping arms in a display of mutual affection. It was an act the teen knew she would never be able to do, forced to forever hide in the confines of secrecy.

A quick kiss, the touch of a fleeting hand, a lasting disapointment. That was all her relationships ever amounted to. She would see the way they scorned her, sense the contempt when she slapped their hands or shoved them away.

Eventually, she gave up the charade of normality. Love and sex had as much meaning as her fading aspirations. Hollow and dead.

Whilst her companions were busy smoking cigarettes and tasting alcohol, she was curled up at her desk, forcing herself to write another long and tedious essay, or complete a particularly tasking assignment, growing more insipid as the days passed by.

She began reading so as to avoid the crippling loneliness that solitude often brought, and though she enjoyed spending time with her friends, the intern could feel an ever present rift gradually growing between them. Her peers blossomed, whilst she withered.

They treated her as they always had, yet the girl's own insecurities made her feel like the black sheep, the odd one out. Watching everyone relish in their youth, regardless of how foolish some of their decisions were, filled her with a mournful envy.

It dawned on the girl that she had never truly felt alive.

Dreary and weak, a shrinking violet, half-formed and not completely grown. She hated being considered a child, but she was aware that she was not yet a woman. Trapped in a cruel limbo that seemed perpetually shrouded in fog, her eyes were glazed and her path unclear.

Tightly gripping the coarse leather strap of her bag, Lisa thought about the possibilities that now lay within her grasp. She had an opportunity to take control of her life, to finally let her own actions pave the way for her future.

It was dangerously irresponsible of her, but the teenager couldn't deny the twinge of excitement that tangled her stomach in a mass of serpentine knots. There was an immense thrill that came with the prospect of taking such a risk.

Besides, it was just a harmless relaxant, right?

With an unbridled yearning, the intern broke into a swift jog, feeling her battered cheeks sting against the violent breeze. Her pumps echoed through the empty town as she breathlessly made her way home, petite frame vanishing between the dim street lamps.

The distant sound of barking dogs was the only noise that disturbed the pitched whistle of the unruly wind, and in the empty night, Lisa thought that Silent Hill resembled a ghost town.

Not a soul could be found outside the boisterous walls of Annie's Bar, and even the local tavern, a popular hotspot for tourists, was eerily quiet when out of season. Despite it's ostentatious reputation, it was a very quiet place to live.

Ascending the steps to her house, the nurse struggled to find her keys in the jumbled depths of her satchel, resting her weight against a wall as she spat clumps of hair from her mouth. Retrieving the jagged metal, she inserted it into the lock and released the latch.

Inside, the warmth of a burning fire stung her frigid limbs, easing her into a sense of comfort. From the kitchen, pots and pans rattled and clanged as her mother prepared dinner, a layer of opaque steam masking the window glass.

Her mother was humming absently to herself, unaware of her daughter's presence. Hanging her jacket on the nearby coat rack, Lisa called out to the woman.

'I'm home!'

'Hi sweetheart.' She replied, peering round the door to greet her child. 'Dinner's almost ready, go and get changed.'

Tucking her windswept hair behind an ear, the teenager made her way upstairs, keeping her pace as slow as possible. She didn't want to appear eager, but her entire being shook as she carefully entered the tidy bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Peeling off her shoes, the intern removed her cardigan and carefully folded it over the back of her chair. Forearm exposed, she stood for a moment, gently prodding the soft flesh with her fingertip. A selection of veins gathered beneath her ashen hue.

With weak knees, she sat on the edge of her bed, mattress creaking slightly as she listened to her mother's distant song. Her confidence began to waver now that she had settled, but her turbulent nerves still jostled expectantly.

_I can do this_. She told herself, reaching for her satchel.

Removing the box and vial, she began to clumsily prepare the needle, hands quaking so fiercely that she dropped the syringe. When she managed to secure the sharp point, the nurse carefully placed it on her desk, searching for something she could use as a tourniquet.

It was the one thing she hadn't thought to grab, instead yanking open her drawers in search of a thin belt. She knew it wasn't practical, but deciding it would have to do, she swiftly wrapped the strap around her arm, tugging tightly until it was secure.

Heart pumping like a powerful piston, she once again tapped her arm, watching as the veins pulsed and throbbed under her touch. Satisfied that she had found a suitable spot, the girl took the vial and measured out twenty miligrams of the strange fluid.

Biting her lower lip with enough force to break the skin, Lisa hesitated as she stood in the centre of her room, soft rug bristling against her curling toes. Though she'd had plenty of practice in giving injections, this was an entirely different circumstance.

_What if something goes wrong?_ She pondered, pacing back and forth as she tried to decide whether or not to sit down. _I could overdose, or accidentally collapse a vein._

'Lisa!' Her mother's shrill voice pushed it's way through her door, further disturbing the girl. 'I'm almost finished, can you come and set the table?'

Indignant, the teen refused to reply, snatching up the syringe and carefully tapping it so as to identify any air bubbles that remained. When they settled at the tip of the plastic, she depressed the plunger to dispose of them.

It was now or never. She knew that if she released the syringe, she would never pick it up again. Holding the cylinder down, she placed the sharp metal at the edge of her vein, clenching her jaw and forcing back the urge to shiver.

As the abrupt thrust of a cold tip pierced her flesh, Lisa let out a soft whimper, taking a moment to release the make-shift tourniquet before she continued. Too much pressure, and she was on her way to a burst vein.

With determination, she pushed her thumb down, forcing the murky liquid into her bloodstream. It was a strange sensation, one which she could not accurately describe. A strange prickle, as though something hot was boring into her muscles.

Mouth agape with pain and discomfort, the intern slowly removed the needle, standing frozen for a short time whilst the drug coursed through her body. It worked swiftly, sending a wave of relaxation over the girl. She felt euphoric and happy.

All of her problems and negativity seemed to evanesce, leaving nothing but a lasting calm. She felt hollow, as though she were made of hot air. Numb, she smiled at the lack of feeling, finding it a pleasant change from her usual torrent of emotions.

A trickle of blood began to ooze from her wound, attracting the intern's attention. Extending her arm, she watched it slither down her wrist. Wandering to the bathroom, she tore a strip of toilet paper from the roll, applying it firmly to the bloodied flesh.

It was a feeling she could get used to, but the girl didn't want to make a habit of it.

_Just this once. _She told herself, alleviating her arm to stop the flow of blood. _I'll try it just this once. What harm can it do?_

Her mother called for her again, and she carefully hid the syringe and vial, hastily cleaning the soiled needle. Disposing of the dirty paper, she flushed the evidence down the toilet, quickly changing into a long sleeved shirt. It would hide the bruises that would surely develop.

As she reached the foot of the stairs, Lisa paused to inhale the stench of steaming food that drifted through the hall. Despite not dining since breakfast, her once ravenous appetite had long since dissipated, vanishing with the rest of her senses.

She was no longer hungry.


	18. Receptacle

Lisa awoke to a glimmer of light peeking through her curtains, the bright beam stinging her sensitive vision, brilliant and vivid.

Her throat felt coarse and dry, like a thirsty desert pleading for a speck of water. It was painful to swallow, creating a strange sensation that felt something akin to swallowing barbed wire. Grating and forced.

Stretching her arms with a content groan, she pulled herself into a seated position, letting the cool air settle on her warm body. A peaceful slumber had left the teen refreshed, cleansing her of any burden that she'd previously had to carry.

For the first time in weeks, the intern faced the day with a smile.

Quenched, she rose from her bed and entered the bathroom, turning on the tap and cupping both hands beneath a stream of ice cold liquid. Bringing the tiny pool to her lips, she gulped down the fluid, feeling it slide along her parched throat.

Rinsing her face, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, asserting that she felt no regret for what she had done. PTV was a strange and mysterious substance, but she couldn't deny that it had been a beneficial risk.

Drying her hands on a nearby towel, she paused to glance at her jewellery box, feeling the tips of her fingers prickle as she remembered where she had hidden the syringe. It would need to be disposed of eventually, but for now, she was content to let it sit.

Stripping down to her underwear, the nurse carefully examined her body for any side effects, relieved to find nothing but a rather tame bruise from where she had injected the needle. That was expected, and she ignored it, slipping into her work uniform.

Red cardigan obscuring her telltale contusion, she ran a comb through her sleek bob, pinning her cap in place with a selection of hair pins. Pinching her cheeks until they developed a rosy hue, the nurse applied her LPN badge, taking a moment to brush her teeth.

She still had little in the way of appetite, having forced herself to eat the meal her mother had prepared. Deciding to skip breakfast, she gathered up her belongings and headed out the door, embracing the stimulating air that rushed into her lungs.

As she basked in the sun's distant warmth, Lisa felt unusually exuberant, something which she attributed to the enigmatic medicine. She had initially doubted Kaufman's words, but after waking in a pleasant mood, her faith in the doctor had been restored.

_I'll have to thank him._ She thought, feeling slightly smug.

His actions could only be perceived as preferential treatment. Offering her a promotion, taking her to the theatre, providing her with medication. It was something that the normally stoic director had not done for anybody else.

He made her feel special, understood her feelings, and took an interest in her personal life. She desperately clung to the hope that his intentions were romantic, believing that she had finally found someone that she could open her heart to.

Afterall, he keeps chasing me. Surely that means something?

Entering the busy foyer, the nurse signed in at the desk, a ritual which had become as familiar to her as breathing. Removing her jacket, she placed her belongings in her locker, moving at a slow, distracted pace as she went about her routine.

As she walked to the lift, her feet faltered as she approached the director's office, eyes focusing on the door as she passed . The girl wondered whether or not to disturb the man. His door remained locked for a reason, and she was afraid that he'd get angry if she interrupted him.

Averting her lingering gaze, she decided that good manners took precedent over satisfying her own need to see him. The nurse intended to thank him eventually, but she would wait for a more opportune moment to arrive.

The elevator arrived with a _ding,_ large doors sliding back to allow the girl entry. Crossing the threshold, she pressed the button for the second floor, interlocking her fingers as the lift began to rise. Her hands suddenly became very itchy, but she forced herself to ignore the sensation.

It was another hectic morning, with a flow of demands that kept the young woman on her toes. A shortage of staff had increased her workload by twice the amount, and the intern struggled to stick to her initial schedule, finding that there were far more patients than nurses.

With no time to think, she devoted all of her energy into wrapping bandages, changing beds and stitching wounds. She was content to be busy, finding it preferable to having her mind aimlessly wander, as it had so often done.

By the end of her shift, the teen's calves burned from the strain of constantly climbing the stairwell, gathering supplies and equipment from the storage cupboard. Beads of sweat drenched her body, soaking her underwear and making her squirm.

She bemoaned the fact that the hospital only had one medicine room, frustrated at how impractical it was. Sliding the cap off her head, she entered the nurse's lounge, perching herself on the edge of the weathered sofa, glass of water in hand.

Kaufman wasn't at work. According to another doctor, he had a very important meeting to attend to, something which would keep him occupied until the following evening.

Gingerly sipping at her drink, the teen wondered what sort of things the man did whilst away from the hospital. She had never heard him speak of family or friends, nor mention anything that would allude to a hobby. The man was a lock without a key, and it bothered her.

Absently scratching her hand, Lisa yelped when her nail grazed the skin, breaking raw flesh to reveal a blot of red. Unbeknown to the teen, she had been plucking the same spot all morning, irritating the lesion until it grew so weak that the tissue tore beneath her touch.

Surprised, she placed her water on the table, condensation creating a neat ring that surrounded the bottom of the glass. Hands sore, she ran a fingertip along the leaking wound, examining the deep hue that trickled down her palm.

She had an insatiable itch which would not leave, a sting that rumbled through her nerves, tickling the tip of her thumb, coursing to the edge of her wrist, and causing much annoyance. She was brittle and tender, having peeled away the outer layer of skin.

Puzzled, Lisa got up to rinse her hand, grabbing a paper towel and holding it against the small laceration. Rough, dead skin had settled between her fingers, a common occurrence in people who frequently washed their hands.

_I'm stressed. _She mused, dabbing her injury with a paper towel. _This is a stress rash. _

Scrunching the paper into a ball, she threw it in the nearby bin, running her fingers along the painful hives that had formed along her flesh. The only cure was to relax, which seemed impossible to do. There was simply too much on her mind.

Finishing her drink, the nurse grabbed her belongings and left, fighting the insatiable urge to scratch her injured hand. Placing it inside her pocket, she refused to acknowledge the discomfort it caused, brow furrowing as the tingle began to burn.

When she arrived home, the house was empty. Her father was at work, and she didn't particularly care where her mother was. Heading to her room, she kicked the door shut behind her, collapsing onto the bed as she burrowed her head into the linen.

Flat pumps provided little support for the girl's feet, and she slipped them off, relieving her screaming arches. Closing both eyes, she lay on her stomach, hands under her pillow as she inhaled the faint aroma of fresh cotton.

The pleasant chime of her music box began to play. It was a peaceful and nostalgic tune, which at one time would have lulled her to sleep. Cautiously raising her head, the young woman eyed the intricate object, noting that the lid was still down.

Nothing but a memory of her childhood, but it had seemed so real. Pushing herself into a seated position, the nurse found her fingers twitching, temptation and mild curiosity causing her to reach out and caress the glossy wood.

It was beautifully crafted, with a floral pattern painted on top, the wood carved and moulded to an elegant shape. Inside there was a tiny ballerina, pirouetting to the charming melody as she stood amongst the jewellery.

Lisa had received the box from her grandfather, a gift for her seventh birthday. Even after ten years had passed, she still cherished it. Feeling guilty, she mentally apologised to him, remorseful at having hidden the syringe inside.

_I know I said just once. _She told herself, taking the needle from its bed of pearls. _But one more can't hurt. It's medicinal, what harm could it possibly do?_

As she prepared the syringe, Lisa reluctantly confessed that she enjoyed the feeling of elation it caused, providing her with a welcomed release from the constant barrage of everyday strife. It was means to an end, and she felt decidedly at ease with the object in her palm.

Just one more.

With arm outstretched, belt wrapped taught around her flesh, the teen placed the cool tip against her skin, grimacing as she plunged the sharp point into her tender vein.


	19. Entry 4

_March 23rd 1976_

_I can't describe the exultant sensation that I felt last night. It was as though my entire body consisted entirely of hot air, floating peacefully in the cerulean sky. _

_I'd increased the dosage by ten miligrams, which was quite a silly and unprofessional thing to do. Admittedly, I just wanted to see if I could extend the effects of the drug, hoping for a greater thrill to come and whisk me away. _

_It was certainly interesting._

_Curled up on my bed, I just lay there and observed the world around me, marvelling at how bright and vibrant it had become. The walls of my room seemed to breath, pulsing back and forth as though the cement harboured a set of lungs. I could have sworn I saw my ballerina dancing, but I don't recall winding her up._

_Though it was strange and illogical, I felt completely safe, like a child held in the protective arms of her mother. It made me laugh, giggling in a way that I hadn't done for many years. I simply couldn't explain why I enjoyed it as much as I did. _

_Unlike the first time, where I merely got a physical buzz, I was now experiencing the mental reaction, hearing, seeing, and smelling things that simply weren't there. My nose twitched against the blaring sound of my heartbeat, eyes able to see the floral perfume that drifted across my vision in gentle wisps, fingers caressing the silky strands as they slithered along my tingling flesh. It was initially jarring, but I eventually got used to the mild hallucinations, learning to ride them out like a leaf on the wind._

_The house was alive, if only for a fleeting moment, and I resided inside its womb; a foetus awaiting rebirth._

_I feel better now. I feel complete._


	20. Petal

Cold tile chilled the girl's flesh, a discarded syringe sitting some feet away, having rolled from the teen's open palm. There was a draft billowing in from the vent, clothing her in goosebumps as she lay, naked and shivering upon the bathroom floor.

An empty vile was clutched in her free hand, glass warm from being wrapped inside her tight embrace. Pulling herself up, the nurse feebly scrambled for the toilet, head hovering over the bowl as a wave of nausea washed over her.

Lisa had been using the drug for almost a month, and though it had started as an irregular occurrence, over time, she found herself unable to function without the substance streaming through her veins. It had become her lifeline.

Kaufman was rarely ever at the hospital, presumably preoccupied with some unknown task. On the fleeting occasion that the nurse was able to thank him, the man seemed rather indifferent, though he did offer to provide her with more PTV, should she so need it.

Well, she needed it.

Her urges had become harder to ignore, and regardless of how she told herself that everything was under control, the intern had gradually fallen prey to addiction. Her body shook from the strain of trying to endure the withdrawal, hands twitching uncontrollably.

Not a speck of fluid remained inside the jar, sending a surge of panic through the young woman. Entire body wrought with agony, it was as though her brain had been rewired, causing immense pain when she couldn't have what she so desperately needed.

There were days when she wanted to crawl beneath her bed and die, crying and rocking like a lonely baby seeking a mother's warmth. Depression consumed her, misery trailing her heels like an ever present rain cloud hanging above her head.

Palms constantly moist, she couldn't seem to quell the cold sweats that followed, clammy and uncomfortable. When she was sick, it was often an abundance of stomach bile, her gut empty from a lack of appetite.

Letting the glass container fall to the floor, she placed a hand on the bathtub, shedding drops of water as she clumsily pulled on a set of clean clothes. Damp hair dripping dew down her neck, the groggy girl stumbled forward, all but bursting through her bedroom door.

It had been a bad trip, which wasn't uncommon. Most of them filled her with immense joy, whilst others left her sobbing in the fetal position. Yet still she kept returning for another dose, eager to get the thrill she so desired.

Both arms were riddled with lesions, ugly scars both fading and fresh. It hurt too much to inject the needle, forcing her to seek alternatives until they had healed. The elbow, the thigh, between her toes. Anywhere would do, so long as she achieved the same result.

Thirsty, she descended the stairs and headed for the kitchen, pouring herself some water. Drinking the entirety in one long gulp, she refilled the glass, taking a seat at the kitchen table. From the hall, she heard her mother approaching.

The Garland house had become an unhappy place, littered with arguments and petty fights. Lisa had developed depression, finding it difficult to concentrate on simple tasks. She struggled to find a reason to care about anything but the drug.

This sudden change in personality hadn't gone unnoticed, causing friction amongst her parents. The girl rarely ever spoke to them, and when she did engage in conversation, it usually amounted to a volley of awkward questions.

What's wrong with you? Why aren't you eating? Is everything okay?

The nurse didn't want to hear it, burrowing her head between her arms as she let her forehead rest on the wooden surface. The door clicked open, followed by the sound of an agitated _tsk._ Her mother was right beside her, arms folded firmly against her floral blouse.

'You're soaking wet.'

'I took a bath.'

'Yes, and you left footprints all over the floor.'

Lisa grunted, slowly sipping at her water. Pushing herself upright, she stared into her mother's pale eyes, lacking the necessary energy to form a coherent reply.

The clock read nine fifteen, yet she had taken a bath hours before. Body still soaking, she had fallen unconscious on the tile floor, suffering a terrible assortment of nightmarish images that assaulted her senses. It still resonated with the troubled teen.

She remembered spiders clambering up the walls, rats scurrying about the floor, strange humanoid creatures flitting before her eyes. They would sit and watch her from afar, though they would never reply when she called out to them.

Her throat was hoarse and her voice absent, unable to scream despite the shock. It had been so horrible that she had rolled into a tight ball and prayed for it to end. She wished she could pick and choose which visions she got to experience, but sadly, she could not.

'What do you want?' She was frowning, yet her voice was a dissonant calm. 'You want me to clean it up? Fine, I'll clean it up.'

The older woman sat down beside her, placing a comforting hand over her daughter's. 'I'm worried about you. If there's something wrong, you can tell me.'

'I'm fine.'

Her mother's fingers began kneading the raw flesh, still itchy and sore. Frustrated, the nurse drew her hand away, cupping them safely in her lap. A trickle of water ran down her forehead, creating a path down her face as it settled on the tip of her chin.

'Will you please leave me alone?' She replied.

'Not until you tell me why you're being so difficult.'

Heaving a sigh, Lisa angled her body towards the woman, running the back of her hand along her face to wipe away any excess dew. Stern expression clouding her usually cheerful mien, she let her gaze bore into that of her mother's.

'I'm sick of being treated like a baby. I want a little freedom, to go out and do things without having to worry about what you think, or what you say.'

Her parent made to stand, brow wrinkled as she leaned over her child. 'We've been through this before.' She said, waving a hand in the air. 'You're being dramatic. All this talk of wanting freedom, you make it sound like we keep you prisoner.'

'Don't you?' The nurse queried. 'When did you last ask me what I wanted?'

'When you leave home, you can have whatever you like, but as long as you live under our roof, you will obey our rules.' She reprimanded, completely ignoring the question.

Lisa scoffed, casually folding both legs beneath her. Running a hand through her damp tresses, she slicked them back out of her eyes, a damp sheen seeping into her flesh.

It all seemed so ridiculous, letting somebody have so much control over her. She wasn't in any sort of mood to listen to the nonsense the woman was spouting, bored with the constant drabble that seemed to repeat itself like a broken record.

'Is it alcohol? Has somebody coerced you into drinking?'

The nurse responded with a dry laugh. 'Do I look drunk?' She caustically replied, finishing off her drink.

It was ironic, she thought, that her mother was so utterly wrong, yet so close to being right. Shaking her head, she pondered why the woman always assumed that somebody else was responsible. Yes, Kaufman had given her the PTV, yet she had willingly chosen to take it.

'You look ill.' She replied, cupping the intern's face with both hands. 'You've gotten so thin. I can't stand to see you waste away before my eyes, please try and eat something.'

'I'm not hungry.'

'But you're losing so much weight!' She exclaimed, reaching out to grab the girl.

Unbeknown to the woman, she had snatched Lisa by her sore arm, pressing down hard on a sensitive bruise. The nurse yelped, jerking away from her grip to place some distance between the two of them. Rubbing at her burning wound, she scowled.

'That hurt.'

Defiance on her features, she stood to her full height, glowering at her mother. It was as though all of the teen's inhibitions had vanished, dissolving amidst the dark substance that resided in her veins. She could feel the words tainting her tongue as she spoke, and each syllable tasted wonderful.

'You always do this.' She hissed, fists clenched at her sides, tone a dissonant calm. 'You like to be in control. Do this, do that, abandon your dreams and become a nurse. I'm sick of it.'

The older woman balked. 'Is that was this is about? Some silly childhood fantasy.'

'It's not silly! I could have been a star.'

Her mother made a sound of disagreement. 'How many people do you think live on this planet? There are plenty of girls just like you, all clamouring for the same roles. Silent Hill is one town, in one country. Did you really think you stood any kind of chance?'

'Yes I did! People were always telling me-'

'What?' She interrupted, voice rising. 'That you were going to be famous? That you'd have your name up in lights?' The woman shook her head, chuckling. 'You're seventeen. It's about time you started living in the real world.'

The girl grimaced, trying not to let her emotions betray her stoic demanour. 'You never believed in me. You or dad.'

'I'm the only one who did.' She caught a stray tear with her finger, removing it and rubbing the salty liquid against her thumb. 'Look at you. You're humble, sweet and plain. You belong on a hospital ward, not on a stage.'

The words hit hard, and tears began to flood Lisa's eyes. She quickly blinked them back, pushing her way past the woman as she retraced her steps through the hall. She couldn't listen to anymore, disappointed that even now, her mother refused to be swayed.

From the living room, she could see her father peering through the door, swiftly averting his gaze. As usual, he was letting his wife's opinions take precedence over those of his own. She didn't even know what he really thought, never voicing his feelings to anybody.

Standing before the man, the teen felt her face contort into a look of disdain, rage building up inside her like a bomb on the verge of exploding. She wouldn't be like that, she wouldn't be a coward. She couldn't have her dream, but she still had a future, and she wasn't going to let anyone hold her back from what she wanted to do.

And to hell with what you think.

Storming upstairs, she slammed the door behind her, the force vibrating the boards beneath her rug. Grabbing the vial, she shoved the empty jar into a small metal bin, hiding the syringe inside her bag. In the morning, she would go to Kaufman, and she would ask him for more.

Because that is what I want to do.


	21. Chlorophyll

**AN: I did intend to publish this sooner, but I got so caught up in it that I just couldn't seemed to get it finished. I also had a bit of trouble with this one, trying to make it seem as realistic as possible. Oh how my cheeks did blush!**

As she walked down the hospital corridor, pumps squeaking loudly against the marble, Lisa twitched with a sense of paranoia, hearing the array of mutters that followed her like a game of Chinese whispers, invading and hushed.

She couldn't determine whether they were real, or simply figments of her wild imagination. It was a repercussion of the drug, making it difficult to ascertain what was there and what was not. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she took a deep breath.

Holding a small envelope in her hand, she gnawed on her low her lip as she approached the director's office, nails scraping neurotically against the paper. She had seen Kaufman leave whilst signing in, taking the opportunity to slip her covert note beneath his door.

Nervous, she swiftly examined her surroundings before surreptitiously sliding the paper underneath the fading wood, heart thumping in her chest as she continued on, pretending as though she hadn't just left a desperate plea for the man to discover.

All morning her mind was swarmed with thoughts of the drug, taunting her as she tried to remain focused on the task at hand. Patients and staff alike had to constantly snap her from whatever stupor she had fallen into, concentration lapsing more frequently than usual.

Twisting her earring, the nurse spent most of the day hiding inside a bathroom stall, knees tucked up as she curled into a ball atop the seat, hugging both legs close. Tremors shook the teen to her core, mild convulsions which made her job difficult to perform.

Entire body swathed in beads of cold sweat, the teen found it almost impossible to move, wanting nothing more than to lie down on the floor and remain there until the hollow feeling resided, awaiting the moment that she could fill the lingering space that seemed to grow with every passing second.

Voices chased her like a vengeful spirit, brushing the tips of her ears in such a way that she wasn't even certain if she had heard anything at all. She couldn't work without the drug, struggling to keep her composure against the tedious weight of her urges.

As night fell, and her shift came to an end, the intern slumped against her locker, verging on tears as that familiar ache returned to her fatigue laden body. Running a hand through her bob, she slowly opened the door to her locker, cold steel sending a chill down her spine.

That's when a scrap of paper fell out, landing gracefully at her feet. She was initially alarmed, scooping to retrieve the curious item with a hint of caution. Turning it over in her hand, she lifted the flap and examined the note, recognizing the handwriting as that of doctor Kaufman.

Suddenly excited, she began to eagerly read the small yet fluent passage he had scrawled, pondering when the man had snuck in and left the message for her to find. She was amused at how silly it was, like two star crossed lovers sending sweet nothings to one another.

Though only brief, the director was asking the girl to meet with him later that night. In exchange for doing so, he would hand her another dose of PTV, as she had requested. Stomach churning, Lisa sat down on the solid bench behind her, pulse hammering as she took in to consideration what the man had asked of her.

Why hadn't he simply called her into his office?

Moaning, she let herself slouch against the wall, gazing at the directions he had left for her to follow. Closing her eyes, she mentally traced the steps as as she tried to remember how to reach Haerbay Inn, located near Annie's Bar and the Indian Runner.

Though Haerbay was it's official name, most of the locals referred to it as Norman's Motel, after the proprietor, Norman Young. She had never seen any reason to visit such a location, barely offering the structure a passing glance as she strolled through town.

It certainly wasn't the sort of place Lisa would have expected to find the well-dressed man, rousing slight suspicion as she pondered what it was, exactly, that the director wanted. It left her rather nervous, though not without a slight twinge of curiosity.

The word motel carried all kinds of connotations, most of them unpleasant. When the teen thought about it, she considered them to be places where people liasoned for sex, filing into empty rooms and leaving separately during the early hours.

No, a man of his status and wealth would most certainly not be found living in such shoddy conditions. There was an ulterior motive, and whatever the doctor had planned, he wanted to keep it strictly confidential.

Shoving the note in her bag, the teen slid into her jacket, removing the cap that sat on her head as she returned to the foyer. For a moment, she stood and contemplated her options, fingers twitching as jolts of pain jabbed at her palms.

She needed the PTV. She didn't just want it. She _needed_ it, like the oxygen that swarmed her lungs, powerful and refreshing. Anticipation urged her on, yet apprehension held her back, tugging at the nurse until she clutched her head in confusion.

Thinking was tedious. The intern found that she was always thinking about things, trying to rationalize every little detail, every trivial piece of information that gouged at her brain. Perhaps she should try the opposite?

Lisa inhaled, attempting to clear the menagerie of foggy thoughts. Without dwelling on her actions, the intern reached for a nearby phone, dialing her home number. After ringing for a few seconds, her father's voice answered.

'Hello?'

'It's me.'

'Oh.' He replied, going quiet. 'Is everything alright?'

She nodded. 'Yeah, I'm just phoning to tell you that I'll be home late. I've been asked to do a little overtime. The girls are struggling with the lack of staff.'

There was silence, followed by a soft grunt. 'Okay, be careful walking home. It's dangerous at night, especially for a young girl.'

Lisa smiled. Even though they didn't see eye to eye, her father was still very protective of her. 'I'll be fine, I promise. See you later.'

The receiver landed with a _ching, _falling into place as the girl escaped into the dusty evening. The mist had returned, as it often did whenever the temperature dropped. Straining her eyes, the teen struggled to see past the viscous sheath that enveloped the town.

Why she had decided to oblige the man's request was more complex than simply acquiring the crimson substance. She had barely spoken to him in weeks, and was feeling thankful that he might be willing to see her in person.

The doctor wasn't her friend, but she considered him more than just her superior. As complicated as their relationship was, the young woman was eager to hear what he had to say. She had nothing to give him in exchange for the drug, though he seemed to disagree.

It didn't take her long to reach the motel, and with only a few scarce cars decorating the parking lot, she felt assured that nobody would notice anything untoward. Hoisting the hood of her jacket over her head, she kept her gaze on the floor as she entered the grounds.

Pulling out the small scrap of tattered paper that she'd shoved into her bag, Lisa double checked the room number, wanting to ensure that she had read it correctly. Number three, that was simple enough.

The building's exterior wasn't all that impressive, doused in an unappealing shade of green. It was, however, a suitable place to stay for anyone passing through the town. Clean and quick, it was ideal for those who wanted to come and go in a hurry.

Maneuvering through the empty grounds, the girl gingerly stopped outside Kaufman's room, lifting her hand as she softly rapped her knuckles against the wood. Initially there was silence, and the intern considered calling out to him.

Knocking once more, the director finally released the latch, opening the door to stare blankly at the teen standing before him. After a moments pause, he moved aside to let her pass, leaving the woman loitering uncomfortably as she examined her surroundings.

The decor was certainly minimal, encompassing the lackluster atmosphere delivered by the establishment. A table sat before the bland sofa, accompanied by magazines and a spotless ashtray, making the already cramped space seem claustrophobic.

There was little, if anything, to connect the man with the dingy flat. Lisa surreptitiously eyed the furniture, scrutinizing the pistachio walls and cheap scenery. Shifting nervously, the teen cleared her throat, trying to ignore the sense of dread that clenched at her gut.

'I didn't know you lived here.' She began, deliberately changing the subject.

'I don't.' He replied, though regrettably, made no attempt to explain.

Moving to face his guest, Kaufman took a step towards the intern, forcing her back. Running a hand along her neck, Lisa gazed up at him, witnessing her reflection in the deep onyx of his pupils. She was sweating again, cold and sudden.

The director gave her a curious look, creating space between them as he sat down on the sturdy couch. Crossing one leg at the knee, he leaned back, casually tugging at the collar of his jacket as he scrutinized her from afar.

When almost a minute had passed, the man spoke. 'Come and sit down.' He leaned over and gently pat the cushion beside him. 'You'll feel far more comfortable if you take the weight off your feet.'

Hesitant, the girl obeyed, gripping her bag protectively as she sat. Eyes focused on the table, she began to erratically tap her feet against the rug. A hand touched her shoulder, causing the nurse to freeze in place, mouth dry as nausea began to torment her fragile stomach.

Turning to meet his gaze, she gradually angled her body towards him, dizzy from the abrupt vertigo. Fiercely clenching the hem of her dress, she watched her knuckles turn white as she scrambled to regain her balance.

'So, you want more medicine?' He queried, voice deep and imposing. She gave him a slight nod in response. 'It's quite expensive I'm sure you understand that I can't keep handing it out for free?'

Lowering her gaze, the teen ran a hand along her damp forehead. 'How much do you need?'

He released a dry laugh. 'I'm not sure you understand just how exspensive it actually is. The drug is certainly going to exceed your salary. You get paid well, but not that well.'

'You're not going to give me any?'

'I never said that.'

With one arm casually lying atop the backrest, he leaned in so that their faces were almost touching, lips hovering above hers. She could smell the powerful musk residing in his pores, meandering through the air and stinging her eyes.

Lisa had gauged the man's intentions from his body language, pace cautious as he inched closer, hand reaching out to settle on her leg. The callous flesh of his palm was cold, a shiver coursing through her as she reacted to the sudden chill.

'Are you afraid?' He asked, a glimmer of amusement crossing his features.

She blinked, taking a moment to register the question. Was she afraid? Here was a man who knew how to get what he wanted, a man who liked things to go his way. Yet despite being alone with him, the teen felt strangely at ease.

'No.' She finally answered.

'Good.' He breathed, lifting himself off the couch. 'When money isn't an option, there are other ways to pay off debts.'

He reached for a nearby door knob, twisting it until the hinge creaked from exertion. Rising to her feet, she peered into the adjoining room, containing only a set of drawers and a bed. Heedful, she stepped inside, wiping clammy hands on her clothing.

The doctor perched himself beside her, springs wailing beneath the combined weight of their bodies. She had been waiting for this moment, haunted by those unbearable dreams that seemed to emphasize the darkest parts of her sexuality.

But before she could be satisfied with the outcome, she considered the unfortunate circumstances which had led to her meeting the man. This was not an act of love, but something more sinister. He was taking advantage of her, and she was letting him.

'This isn't right.' She mumbled, voice barely audible in the silence of the room.

Kaufman made a small sound, reaching out to play with a lock of the girl's hair. Twisting it around his finger, he gave the strawberry blonde curl a soft tug, smirking when the teen pulled away from him with a distasteful frown.

Another dilemma had arisen, and she wasn't quite sure what to do. The scenario had played out differently in her head, as opposed to the harsh reality of the current exchange. Even so, she found her body going warm with a familiar heat, pulsing between her thighs and forcing the girl to clamp both legs shut.

Cursing her inability to control the emotions that pulsed through her hunched frame, Lisa buried her face in her hands, inhaling deeply as she mulled over her indecisive nature. Aware that the man was watching her, she straightened up, removing her jacket and folding it neatly as she set it down upon the tawdy carpet.

'You don't have to do this, I've already made that clear.'

She shook her head. 'I do, otherwise I won't get what I came for.'

As she reached down to remove her cardigan, the director gently caressed her cheek, taking the teen by surprise. Flushing red, she let them warm the man's cool fingers as he ran the tips across her supple skin.

'If you want to do something, you should just do it.' He told her, removing a strand of hair from her face. 'True, I won't give you the PTV without anything in return, but if you weren't prepared for this, you wouldn't have come.'

Lisa peered back at the bed she was sitting on, wondering how many more women had shared it with the man. She didn't particularly want to find out, accepting, somewhat reluctantly, that Kaufman had correctly identified the source of her problem.

She had been willing to provide sex as payment, that much was true, but she had also wanted intimacy, to relieve herself of the pent up frustration, the arousal that seemed to burn passionately whenever they were together.

Lisa had hoped for flowers and hearts, things which the man was incapable, or at least unwilling, to provide. A dingy motel was not her idea of romantic, yet she also knew that romance was something beyond the director's capabilities.

Why waste money on trying to woo the girl, when he already had her under his thumb?

'Well?' He quizzed, waiting for her to respond.

'We went to the theatre, and you were so nice to me, but after you've had your way, you're just going to discard me like a used hanky.'

The director scoffed. 'Handkerchief's may stain, they may lose their colour, but they're still handkerchiefs. They still have their uses. Isn't this what you want?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know.'

'It's a mutual agreement.' The older man continued, beginning to unfasten his tie. 'No commitment, no responsibility, just two people enjoying one another's company.'

Slipping off her red cardigan, the young woman thought about his words, running them through her mind in a perpetual circle as she continued to undress. Perhaps it was better that way, to remain as two ships passing in the night.

Besides, what was so bad about having a casual relationship? As the girl slid out of her pumps, she decided that with enough effort, it was almost possible to pretend they were a couple. Even if it was only for one night, she wanted to lose herself in the fantasy.

_It's a little sad_. She lamented, removing the badge that clung to her cotton dress. _I never thought I'd let someone use me like this._

With a sorrowful sigh, she reluctantly gripped the hem of her skirt, faltering before she began to roll it up her thighs. There was something shameful about the act, and Lisa paused as she contemplated how to handle the quandary that she found herself in.

'I'm a little nervous.' She muttered, voice breaking as she spoke.

'Is this your first time?'

She shook her head, trying to avoid staring directly at the man. It was a lie, and though she knew it pointless to evade the truth, she didn't feel quite so childish. How difficult could it be? All she had to do was lie there.

'Well then,' He continued, unbuckling his belt. 'This won't be too problematic.'

'No.' She whimpered, clasping slender fingers over his much larger hands. 'I'm...I don't...' She made a sound of frustration. 'I've never done this. I mean, I've done things, but never...this.'

Face empty, the man resumed undressing. 'Then this will be a new experience for you.' As he slowly began to unbutton his shirt, the director peered at the teen from his peripheral vision. 'Having second thoughts? We can stop.'

'No, I want to do this.'

She considered asking him to look away, but decided it was ultimately pointless. Realizing he was paying more heed to his own body than hers, she quickly removed the remaining clothing, gasping as the draughty air chilled her naked body.

Scrambling for the sheets, the girl buried herself beneath them, trembling from anxiety, anticipation and fear. It was a horrible concoction of opposing emotions that threatened to tear the woman apart. She hadn't been alone with a man for such a long time.

Closing her eyes, she felt the duvet slide back, teasing her waiting flesh as the doctor lay down beside her, bare limbs colliding as he made himself comfortable. A whirlwind erupted within her, pulling her stomach into tight knots as she forced herself to peer back at him.

'Are you ready?'

A quivering, uncertain breath escaped her lips, evaporating into the thin air. She chuckled, more out of nerves than any real humour. 'I'm ready.'


	22. Wilt

Lying beneath the sheets, Lisa let her body curl into a ball, snuggling beneath the warm duvet as she felt the familiar lull of sleep take hold. Kaufman was already getting dressed, buttoning his shirt as she lay and watched him through heavy eyes.

When he noticed the woman staring at him, the doctor sat down on the bed, resting his weight on his elbow as he lowered himself down beside her. It was the most casual pose he had carried all evening, running a finger down her rosy cheek as she gazed up at him.

Letting the man caress her glossy flesh, the nurse closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, listening to the sound of passing cars drifting in from the dark street. The dim light illuminated very little of the compact space, casting invading shadows upon his features.

'I can help rid you of those bruises.' The man spoke, softly removing the sheets to reveal a severely contusioned arm.

Embarrassed, the girl obscured the yellow mark with her hand, focusing her attention on the creased pillow wrought with tangled hair. Stripping down had been shameful, but allowing him to see her abused frame was even more humiliating.

Taking hold of the blanket, she gingerly pulled it back over her exposed frame, breathing low and deep as she rolled onto her back, gazing at the plain ceiling. She was overcome with fatigue, fighting back the ever present urge to yawn.

'Get dressed.' Kaufman suddenly demanded, peeling back the covers, once again leaving the nurse shivering and naked. 'I have something to relieve you of that troublesome syringe.'

Pulling herself into a seated position, Lisa clambered for something to hide her modesty with, then decided it was ultimately useless. He wasn't paying much attention to her, instead searching for something inside his cluttered drawers.

Doing as he had asked, the intern began to slip her clothes back on, frowning as the scent of dry perspiration hit her nostrils. Running slender fingers through her matted locks, she felt threads of hair snap as she untangled the knots that had worked their way into her bob.

Slipping into her shoes, the girl watched as the director retrieved a clear pack of white powder, offering the mysterious parcel to her. Puzzled, she hesitantly reached out and took it, examining the soft grains that shifted within the walls of plastic.

'What's this?'

'A form of PTV.' He replied, smoothing down his collar. 'You inhale it.'

Lisa wavered. 'Like cocaine?'

'Don't worry. It's not benzoylmethylecgonine.'

Clearing her throat, the nurse fingered the rim of the bag, hearing a soft crackle as it yielded beneath her grip. It would certainly make things easier for her, and she felt some semblance of relief at the knowledge that she no longer had to use a needle.

'No more pain, no more bruises.' He said, avoiding eye contact as he worked on his tie.

Slightly ashamed, the intern gnawed anxiously on her lower lip, accepting that there was no way she could have undressed without inevitably revealing her marred flesh.

Deflated, she bent down to slip the PTV inside her bag, finding that the contraband was surprisingly heavy. However, it's weight was mitigated by it's compact shape, which would allow her to hide it with relative ease.

Putting on her jacket, the teen bemoaned her aching limbs, core throbbing with an entirely different sensation. She was still coming to terms with the fact that she had slept with the man, wandering through a blurry haze like a girl trapped within a dream.

Thinking of her mother, she mused at how angry the woman would be, and for once she had to agree that such a reaction was justified. Lisa didn't feel particularly proud of herself, yet despite this, there was also a lingering sense of satisfaction.

Having finally completed what she set out to accomplish, the nurse felt as though a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Even though the experience hadn't been what she was hoping for, the constant pang of curiosity had all but subsided.

It was a peaceful sensation.

'Thank you.' She mumbled, hauling her satchel over her shoulder.

Kaufman responded with a nod, moving aside to open the door for her. Feeling slightly rejected, the intern bowed her head as she passed, fatigue laden and sore, pumps dragging along the carpet as she began creeping towards the exit.

A cool draught billowed in from beneath the door, chilling her bare ankles as she stood before the murky wood. There were plenty of things that she wanted to say, words which tickled the tip of her tongue, yet seemed perpetually stuck at the back of her throat.

There was nothing she could say to diffuse the awkward silence, so she chose to say nothing at all. From over her shoulder, the man reached out and gripped the handle, hinges screaming shrilly as the door slowly swung open.

A burst of icy air stole her breath away, slamming into the girl so harshly that she stumbled back. The warmth of the motel made her forget about the turbulent storm that was brewing, bringing the intern back to reality.

'Remember,' The director began, voice low and guttural. 'Nobody else has to know about this.'

His breath shifted fragments of hair, warming the intern's cheeks as she peered back at her boss. It didn't sound very threatening, though she was certain that the doctor was warning her. He didn't need to worry. She was more than willing to comply.

'So what now?' She queried, standing on the lonely pavement. 'This will change things. It will be weird. At work, I mean.'

'It will be, at first. In time you'll grow used to these rendezvous, maybe even learn to enjoy them. There's no reason you can't give in to more...carnal desires from time to time.'

Lisa seemed unsure, scuffing her shoes along the grey stone as she shrugged. 'I need to go home, my...it's getting late.'

Pivoting, she reached up and removed her earrings, popping them inside her bag as she began to cross the parking lot. She had very nearly mentioned that her parents would be concerned, but stopped herself when she realized how immature it sounded.

Afterall, she was an adult now. Right?

Seventeen years old, yet still she didn't feel any less childish and insecure than she had previously done so. Disheartening though it was, the nurse found herself feeling foolish, like an infant who had received vanilla ice cream rather than chocolate.

The sex hadn't been painful, or at least not as agonising as she had expected. It did cause her great discomfort however, and she was unable to truly enjoy the affair.

She had closed her eyes and remained still, stiff and rigid beneath the man's weight, head banging constantly against the headboard, too self-conscious to do anything beyond grip the mattress tightly and wait for it to end.

It was so different to her passionate dreams that Lisa began to wonder why people placed so much importance on the act. Every grunt and gasp sent her further into the depths of sordid embarrassment, leaving little room for enjoyment.

_It will get better. _She told herself, more out of desperation than sincerity. _I'm sure my body will adjust to it sooner or later. It just takes time._

Regardless, the nurse still felt slightly forlorn at how swiftly her emotions had been crushed by the harsh reality of it all. With time, that wound would also heal, but in the passing moment, she felt as though she could cry.

Heart heavy, the young woman let her palm settle on the plastic bag inside her satchel, finding solace in the white substance that resided within. Even if it was only temporary, she welcomed the exuberance it would bring, each step urging her closer to that precious high.

As she stepped into her home, the intern let her weight rest against the door, a distant voice echoing through the house as her father called out to her. With a barely audible reply, she sluggishly dragged herself to her bedroom.

Removing her diary from it's secure location, the girl grabbed a pen and flipped open the pages, hand hovering above the paper as she hesitated to scribe down her feelings. This task proved quite problematic for the woman.

It wasn't a memory that she wanted to remember.


	23. Entry 5

**AN: I know it seems as though this story is moving along quite slowly, but from this point on, it's going to speed up considerably. **

_April 16th 1976_

_I never really valued virginity much. My mother has always treated it like a part of a woman's soul, to be given only to the man that you choose to wed. That is a sentiment we do not share, for I care little about such archaic musings._

_Despite sleeping with Kaufman, I don't feel particularly different. A little sore, perhaps, but intrinsically I'm the same. Unlike what I have been told, sex is not a rite of passage, and I must confess that I was mistaken in that regard._

_My superior knew exactly how to reel me in like a prime catch, playing on my tender emotions so as to reap whatever he pleased. Even so, if he were to ask me again, I wouldn't exactly be quick to refuse. If this is all we have, if this is all our relationship will ever amount to, then I hope that I can one day come to find the act of love-making pleasant._

_Silly as it may sound, I enjoy spending time with him. After we finished, the man spoke to me. We conversed about many different things; family, hobbies, work. It was nice to simply lie there and talk, even if it was only for a brief moment. Kaufman let his guard down, allowing himself to relax. I saw a person, the human that lives beneath his visage._

_It remains inevitable that we shall meet again, for the PTV will not last forever._

_Speaking of PTV, I had a little difficulty with my initial attempt at inhaling the powder. At first it flew up my nostril so fast that I coughed and spluttered it all back out, sending particles scattering across the surface of my desk. It seems that I need more practice, but I will keep on trying until I succeed. At least my bruises will heal._

_Tomorrow I will find a way to dispose of the syringe, as it is no longer needed._


	24. Wither

**AN: It's been a crazy couple of weeks. Firstly I was on holiday for a fortnight. Then I got sick, so the third week was spent feeling sorry for myself. Then I spilled tea all over my laptop, frying it. But, after all of those hurdles, I finally finished the chapter I was working on. **

**Also, I just realised that I've been spelling Kaufman's name wrong this whole time! It's two N's, not one. Oh well, just pretend that's how it's supposed to look.**

It was only a few days later that Lisa got a phone call from the doctor, rousing her from an otherwise peaceful slumber. Groggy, she stumbled out of bed to answer the incessant ringing that had rudely torn her from sleep, blaring through the quiet house at some ungodly hour.

Irate, the teen's heart pulsed in her chest, pounding painfully from fear and anxiety as she took the receiver and held it to her ear. As expected, her mother dashed out of bed to see what the commotion was about, hair tousled and breath swift.

_Who would ring at such a time? _The nurse quizzed, eyes wide as she struggled to see in the darkness of the night.

Straining through the dancing shadows, her weak voice carried the hesitation of a girl afraid to face whatever horrid news was about to befall her ears. Fighting back a yawn, she greeted the mysterious caller with a soft whisper.

'H...hello?'

'It's me.' Came a man's voice, carrying the slightest hint of impatience.

It could only be one person, and the girl instantly recognised his deep snarl. Kaufman sounded tired, as though he hadn't been able to get much rest. In the background, sounds of erratic movement could be heard, muffled though his office door.

Suddenly alert, the nurse sat upright, receiver firmly sitting between both hands. Her mother stood at the top of the stairs, arms folded across her chest as she grumbled at the disturbance. Lisa ignored her, trying to hear the director's words.

'Is something wrong?' She asked, aware of her mother's growing anger.

'I need you to come down to the hospital. I'm sorry, but there's been an incident.'

Lisa's heart sank. 'An incident?'

'Don't worry.' The man replied, sensing her panic. 'A fire has started at the Gillespie house, and though I wouldn't normally ask, the shortage of staff has left me overwhelmed. I'd appreciate it if you would come and help me with the situation.'

The girl remembered that name. Dahlia Gillespie lived with her young daughter, but that was the extent of her knowledge. The woman was quite reclusive, and though she knew of the family, Lisa had never met them in person.

Dahlia was notorious amongst the citizens of Silent Hill, infamous for her outlandish views and abnormal behaviour. She was a curious lady, deeply interested in gyromancy and the occult, something which ostracised her from the rest of society.

She began to dwell on the severity of the situation, aware that something terribly bad must have happened for her boss to call. Gnawing on her lower lip, she cleared her throat as she tried to form words.

'Is anyone...dead?'

Despite training as an intern, and bearing witness to some nasty injuries, the teen had yet to see a dead body, a thought which filled her very core with feelings of nausea. It was a sight she wished never to behold, however impossible it seemed.

'No, but we have a child with third degree burns.' Came his weary response. 'Can you get here in the next half hour?'

Swallowing, the girl faltered. 'I'll be there in ten.'

'I must warn you, it's not pretty.'

Lisa inhaled, deep and slow, pacing herself as she prepared for her reluctant journey. Seeing such a vulnerable and weak creature lying helplessly on a gurney was perhaps more distressing than simply viewing a lifeless corpse.

'I'll be there as soon as I can.' She answered, hanging up and scrambling to her feet.

As far as she was aware, Dahlia had only one child; Alessa. For a girl so young, it was almost unbearable to think of her suffering, and for the first time in months, Lisa found herself unwilling to enter Alchemilla.

Pausing to rush a cobbled explanation to her waiting parent, the young woman fled to her room, pulling on her creased uniform with disregard as she tried to muster the courage needed to continue. A mixture of lethargy, sleep-deprivation and horror consumed her, leaving a powerful weight on both legs as she trudged onto the empty street.

Already cold from such unpleasant news, the nurse remained indifferent to the biting weather, feet scurrying as she hurried towards the hospital. In the distance, thick plumes of black smoke rose into the sky, choking the stars in a thick canopy of ash and ember.

Sirens blared out from some far off place, echoing beyond the pitch black haze that blurred the lines between reality and fiction. As though in a dream, or rather, some unwanted nightmare, the intern approached the creaking gates of her workplace.

Pulse hammering in her chest, she felt her resolve fade as she made her way to the foyer, pumps kicking loose gravel across the dusty earth as she tried to push twisted thoughts from the forefront of her mind. She had a job to do, she couldn't lose her nerve.

The reception was fluttering with noise as she entered, nurses bounding from room to room with equipment and linen, doing their best to provide aid to those in need. Voices raised, they screamed orders at one another from across the room.

It was a particularly busy morning, and Lisa felt a dull pain throb at her temples as a headache pulsed through her skull. Tired and unwilling, she forced her legs to move forward, weaving through the mass of bodies as she made her way to the locker room.

Before she had time to store her belongings, Kaufman approached her from behind, expression grim as he gestured for the girl to follow. Silently, he made his way to the basement, refusing to acknowledge the enquiries that his employee made.

When the room fell quiet and the staff grew scarce, he opened the heavy door, revealing a set of stairs that descended into darkness. From below, the teen could hear a rumble as the generator echoed through the eerie void.

'What are you doing?' She quizzed, puzzled at the man's odd behaviour. 'I thought you said we weren't allowed in the basement?'

'I've something to show you.'

Standing aside, he made a motion towards the steps, indicating that he wanted her to delve into the disturbing depths. Shifting her weight so that she leaned against the wall, the intern made no attempt to move, slightly frightened by the turn of events.

'Where's the child?'

Bowing his head, the director once again pointed in the direction of the basement. 'I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. Go down the stairs.'

'No, not until you tell me what's down there!'

Heaving a sigh, the man moved close, leaning down until his tall frame was towering over the young woman, a look of agitation furrowing his brow. 'Your patient.'

Balking at his words, Lisa mustered a soft grunt as she gingerly peered round the door frame, cold air ascending from below. Pulling her jacket tight, she grudgingly began to make her way into the unknown, the scuffing of her shoes rebounding off the walls.

His words had struck a chord with the nurse, who understood them to some degree, yet refrained from thinking too hard about the implications. Uncomfortable in the dim light, she felt a shred of relief at reaching the bottom, fumbling along the wall as she tried to find her way in the poor illumination.

Behind her, the doctor's heavy shoes clacked upon the gaudy stone, a bulb flickering into existence as he flipped a nearby switch. Moving forward, the girl took pursuit, a heavy feeling settling on her back, as though some unseen eyes were watching her.

It was the first time she had ever set foot inside the basement, and it created such a feeling of isolation that she had to use all of her willpower not to turn and flee. Inhaling gusts of damp air, the woman forced herself to keep moving.

She was aware that beneath the hospital lay a morgue, but seeing the sign printed on a metal door did little to dispel her nerves. It was more like a dingy cavern, than anything she would have expected to find in a hospital.

'Where are you taking me?' She asked, exasperated at his lack of concern. 'I don't like this.'

Unlocking a side door that she'd failed to notice, the man ushered her into a hallway shrouded in oppression and misery. Along the way, she became aware of the telltale beep of a life support machine, sending shivers down her spine.

As they arrived at their destination, Kaufman placed his hand over the doorknob, examining the girl's mien as she began to connect the dots. Palms moist, Lisa braced herself against the revelation that awaited her behind the mysetrious door.

The hinges swung open silently, as though they were well oiled for just such a purpose, revealing a bleak and depressing room that seemed cloaked in a perpetual state of torment. Air stagnant, the girl concealed her nose as she prepared to enter the small space.

Four walls enclosed a hospital bed, the sheets grubby and filthy, stained with blood. Beside it sat a cabinet, adorned with numerous bottles and medicines. A single chair was situated at the foot of the bed, lonely and solemn.

Everything about the room was unsanitary, with peeling paper and discoloured patches from where damp had destroyed the ceiling. The scent of smouldering flesh made her gag, bringing tears to her eyes as she tried to ignore the rotting carrion.

Lying in the centre of the mattress was a fragile figure, helplessly sprawled out and abandoned to solitude. It was the body of a girl, around six years of age, with charcoal skin that had been stripped from her bones by flame.

A bald scalp free from hair, lips too damaged to move, a cloth towel wrapped around her torso, fragments of flannel merging with her limbs. It was far worse than what she had imagined, and all her prior resignations seemed trivial compared to the harsh reality.

It was Alessa Gillespie, and Lisa knew it the moment she laid eyes on the fragile being. But where was her mother? And why was she in the basement?

'This is horrible.' She gasped, hand to her mouth as she tried not to gag. 'Why is this place? Why isn't anyone taking care of her?'

'Because that is your assignment.' He replied, seemingly disinterested with the sight before him. 'I want you to be her personal carer.'

There was a pause as the intern registered the information. 'Why is she here?'

'You know very well that we don't have enough rooms to house everyone.'

'So you put her in the basement!?'

'What would you suggest?' He asked, temper short.

'Send her to another hospital. Brookhaven isn't far.'

'It is for someone in her condition.' He murmured, moving forward to check the child's pulse. 'She's alive, but she won't survive without someone to care for her.'

'And what if I say no?'

A wry smile spread across the director's face, menacing and cruel as he removed a vial from his pocket. Holding it up for her to see, he tauntingly shook it inches from her face.

'If you refuse, then no more PTV.'

Heart sinking and rage building, Lisa lowered her head in defeat, accepting that this was something she had no say in. The choice was not hers to make, and the older man had successfully lured her into yet another trap.

It was unfathomable to think that anybody could be forced to live in the sordid conditions of that make-shift room, and the teen knew that there was something more sinister behind the doctor's motives.

Leaning forward, satchel clanging against the metal bars, she reached out a hand and carefully touched Alessa's arm, immediately withdrawing when the child released a barely audible groan. It was obvious that the girl was in unmentionable pain, and Lisa didn't think there was anything she could do to ease her suffering.

Conflicting emotions smothered the nurse, who wanted desperately to help Alessa, but was so disgusted by her appearance that she didn't see herself fit to perform the task. Medical books had taught her everything she needed to know, except how to deal with the stress of seeing a human in such agony.

'I can't cope with this.' She mumbled weakly. 'Does her mother know?'

He gave her a brief nod, though said little else. Dahlia owned the Green Lion Antiques store in Central Silent Hill, a place that bustled with busy shoppers all flocking to the mall. It was rather out of the way, and easy to miss, if you didn't know what to look for.

Lisa pondered whether the woman was content with the arrangement, deciding that, if she were a mother, it would have been more acceptable to leave her daughter in the foyer, where it was at least clean and sanitary.

'Where is Mrs. Gillespie?'

Kaufman came to stand next to Lisa, placing a hand on the stunned teen's shoulder. Instead of shrugging it off, the intern simply sat and stared at the heaving chest of her patient, wondering what sort of miracle had allowed the child to continue living.

'She needed to be alone. Besides, it's necessarry that we bandage the wounds before any visitors are allowed.'

'I...Yeah, okay.'

The nurse made to stand, legs barely able of sustaining her weight. Removing her coat and draping it over the chair, she began to peel at the towel clinging to Alessa's horrendously scarred flesh, wincing as blood pooled from the torn flaps that came loose.

'Oh God, I can't!' She squealed, covering her eyes and turning away from the pitiful scene. 'Please don't make me do this, please!'

Unflinching, the director eyed her with scrutiny, phased by nothing as he stood in the open doorway, arms by his sides. That cold demeanour had returned, replacing what little compassion the man was capable of.

'You'll never become a nurse with that attitude. These are the sort of realities you'll be dealing with on a daily basis. I suggest you get used to them.'

On the verge of weeping, Lisa glowered at him with such force that her eyes began to sting. Working at a hurried pace, she set about embalming the child in bandages, all the while wondering whether her gentle touch was harming the girl.

After she had finished, and with barely a word, she collected her things and left, leaving Kaufman to lock the door behind him. Removing a spare key, he handed the tiny piece of metal to his employee, satisfied that she had completed her task.

It was difficult to subdue the nausea that had risen in her stomach, vicious and boiling as it threatened to spew forth at the slightest hint of movement. Slowly grabbing the key he offered, the intern shoved it in her bag, gaze on her scuffed pumps.

'Dont tell anyone about what you've seen here.'

'What are you up to?' She asked, unsurprised at his demand.

'It's of no concern to you, and if you want to keep receiving your precious drug, you will do as I ask. Only myself and her mother need to know of this.'

Lisa opened her mouth to retort, but finding that words would not come, closed it again. There was nothing she could say, knowing that he had her crushed beneath his thumb with no means of escape. He had what she needed, and he knew exactly how to tug her strings.

Even so, the prospect of returning to that room was too much for her to bear, drowning her in a wave of insurmountable sorrow. She had viewd something so unspeakably harrowing, that it was impossible for her to forget.

She had become the girl's keeper, but as far as everybody else was aware, Alessa Gillespie died that day.


	25. Decay

**AN: This chapter was hard to write, as I couldn't think of any reason why Kaufman would want Lisa to meet him at Cedar Grove. I mulled it over for quite some time, but in the context of the game, there was no real explanation. **

**Also, there's nothing to suggest that Helen Grady is officially dead (at least not until **_**after **_**Travis pays Momma a visit), hence why I included her in the story. I couldn't think of any other way Lisa's, "You KNOW who's in there!" line would make sense.**

Kaufman had given Lisa strict instructions as to what time she was allowed to enter the basement. She was to ensure that nobody saw her go down there, and that nobody saw her emerge. This was something which would have been relatively difficult, if not for the din in activity that occurred during dusk and dawn.

Unable to sleep, and unwilling to return home, the girl chose to stay and lumber about the hospital, sipping coffee and wandering aimlessly through the corridors. She was stunned to discover that a secret chamber lived beneath the structure, pondering endlessly as to how long it had been there, and what purpose it could have served.

She began to suspect that the recent renovations were nothing more than an excuse to build said tunnel, which only caused her to delve deeper into such unpleasant thoughts. Had it been part of some larger scheme? There was no way to be certain, but something about it seemed very suspicious.

In the passing hours, her evasive boss had briefly called her into his office, informing her that she should meet him later at the sanitarium. For what, he had not said, though she certainly wished for an excuse not to go.

The teen felt a shiver creep down her spine, reluctant to set foot inside that house of madness. Though she had never been inside Cedar Grove, her grandmother had briefly transferred to the contagion ward. She had heard many stories about the place, neither of them particularly pleasant.

Most patients were ultimately harmless, with the majority suffering from mental disorders that regular hospitals didn't have the means to deal with. Some would stumble absently through the halls, others needed round-the-clock care, plenty had only mild disorders.

But it wasn't always rainbows and sunshine, her grandmother had made that abundantly clear. Some of the orderlies had to physically restrain the more violent patients, sustaining many injuries in the process. It was a rather distressing sight to behold.

Then there were contagions. Outbreaks of polio and tuberculosis were common, and treating them at Alchemilla was simply not possible. Everyone, staff included, ran the risk of becoming infected, meaning that seclusion was the only solution.

Many were so sick, so beyond help, that they were simply left to die. Unethical though it were, a surprising number of patients had been abandoned by their families, who were no longer able to cope with the situation. Nobody would miss them.

Perhaps one day, she too would have a room of her own, sealed away from the rest of society. Surely a woman who saw illusions, drug induced or not, was deserving of such a fate?

As she prepared to leave, the nurse found a man curiously sprawled on a waiting room bench, his features concealed behind a low cap. Thinking he must have fallen asleep, the young woman tentatively approached him.

With bloodshot eyes and a tired mien, the girl enquired as to whether he was okay, fearing that he may need medical attention. He seemed bewildered, a glimmer of concern betraying the stoic expression he adopted on waking.

Introducing himself as a man named Travis, the intern was startled to discover that he was the one responsible for rescuing Alessa. Despite his heroics, the nurse received no enjoyment from this knowledge, believing that it would have been better if the child had died.

What was a life wrought with such pain?

Wearing a sincere expression of sorrow, Lisa solemnly confessed that Alessa had died from her injuries, a lie that almost consumed her when she saw the look on his face. Sad though it made her feel, she had to obey the doctor's orders.

Bidding farewell, she and Travis went their separate ways, with the intern hoping that he would find some comfort in knowing that he tried. She would have preferred to examine him first, but the man reassured her that he was alright.

It was grimly ironic. She was doing what she had always wanted to do. Act.

Skulking her way to the oppressive brick walls that surrounded the sanitarium, the strawberry blonde held herself tightly, anxious as to why Kaufman wanted to meet her there. Pushing through the steel gates, she made her way up the curving path.

Inside the building was warm, wide corridors carrying the overpowering stench of bleach. Shoulders sagging as she embraced the heat, the young woman was relieved to see the director approaching from a nearby door, thankful that she didn't have to search for him.

_The less time I have spend here, the better. _She thought.

Screams could be heard echoing throughout the halls, and whether they were borne from pain, or simply the mad ramblings of a lunatic, she wasn't sure. Nurses and orderlies waltzed back and forth, perfectly composed despite the atmosphere.

'Why are we here?' She asked, slightly irate.

'I don't particularly like this place anymore than you do.' He confessed, peering over his shoulder. 'But I have some very important items to retrieve.'

'So why do you need me?' She quizzed, not entirely believing his words.

'Perhaps I enjoy your company.' He smirked, further enraging the girl.

Suddenly annoyed, she sped ahead of the man, causing him to stumble to an abrupt stop. Brushing flyaway hair from her face, she furiously stomped her foot on the ground, not caring that it made her resemble a petulant child.

'I lied for you today, and to the poor man who rescued Alessa. It would be nice for you to tell me what's going on, or at the very least explain what we're doing here.'

Making a small sound, the older man regarded her with a hint of frustration. 'I have no ulterior motive, if that's what you're thinking.' Pivoting on his heel, the doctor resumed walking. 'Three days ago, a polio survivor was transferred to my hospital for recuperation. I have simply come to collect his belongings.'

'Shouldn't his family do that?'

'He doesn't have any. There are two boxes, I can't carry both by myself, and seeing as how you had nothing better to do, I brought you along.'

'Is that so?' Came her rhetoric reply.

At his insistence, Lisa stopped just short of the Patient Belongings room, leaving Kaufman to converse with an orderly. With the excuse of having to sort through some documents, the two disappeared behind a set of doors, leaving her to stand around, idly awaiting their return.

Bored, the teen wandered off to explore the sanitarium, pumps squealing as she gingerly traversed the polished floor. Unfamiliar with the layout, she found herself absently weaving in and out of hallways, losing herself deep within the facility.

Despite knowing that Kaufman would be angry once he discovered she was missing, the girl continued on regardless of the fact, spurned by a twisted curiosity that refused to leave. There was something mysterious and deeply interesting about the building.

Though standards were slowly improving with each passing year, the state of the institute still left much to be desired. Lobotomies had once been the most prominent method of dealing with unruly patients, and despite having been all but phased out, the alternatives weren't much better.

Many of the sick were forced into straight jackets and sealed inside their rooms, usually by leather straps that bore into their flesh. Orderlies with little patience would occasionally beat people into submission, a sight her grandmother had witnessed often.

Mental illness came in many different forms, and the intern was certain that Cedar Grove, like many sanitariums, lacked the personnel and experience to truly cure those which they were trying to help. Of course, the "abnormal" people had to go somewhere.

Finding herself in the east wing, the young woman became aware of a strange, almost animalistic howl echoing from one of the far corridors. Feet moving of their own accord, she grew close to the sorrowful wail that escaped a solitary door, leading to Female Seclusion.

There was no one around to witness her inconspicuously sneaking inside the small hall, and though she told herself it was wrong, and that she should return to the main foyer, she was so perplexed by the noise that she found it almost impossible to turn away.

Five rooms greeted her on the other side, clearly reserved for patients who were unable to integrate with everyone else. One of them was slightly ajar, with the sound of a struggle resonating from beyond the door.

Creeping towards the small crack that released a faint beam of light, Lisa peered through the gap to see a middle-aged woman, scrawny and withered, being held down by a pair of female nurses, arms raw from where metal buckles had grazed the skin.

Though feebly struggling against their grip, it was obvious that she was far too weak to make much of an impact, legs kicking uselessly as she soon gave up the battle. A selection of pill bottles - presumably her medicine - sat on a metal tray.

'Where is he?' She croaked, glazed eyes scouring her surroundings. 'Where's my son?'

One of the women let out a deflated sigh. 'He's not here.'

'Why?' She asked, lifting her head to glare at the nurse. 'I want to see him. I want to see my son.'

'You know why he's not here, Helen.'

'Where's my boy? Where's Travis?'

The second nurse cleared her throat, gathering equipment as they prepared to leave. 'Mrs. Grady, it's been over a decade since your son came to visit.'

'I want my child! Bring him to me. I want Travis!'

Ignoring her, they made to leave the cell, forcing Lisa to flee the scene before she was spotted. Watching as they locked the door, she waited until they were out of sight before seating herself in a nearby chair, suddenly solemn.

_That must be Travis' mother_. The teen mused, keeling forward with her head bowed. _I didn't know he was from around here. How sad. He never comes to visit._

She could hear muffled cries escaping the room, abruptly stifled by a haunting silence as the woman grew quiet. Never before had she seen somebody forced to live in such conditions, and it disturbed the nurse to see how swiftly she was disregarded.

Out of mind, out of sight, locked inside her own personal hell.

Slumping disparagingly where she sat, a set of footsteps invaded her ears, followed by the sound of a man's voice. Mumbling to herself, she slowly lifted her head, meeting Travis' stern gaze with her own. Was he here to visit Helen?

'Is Alessa in there?' He foolishly quizzed, perplexed by the girl's rambling.

Furious, Lisa got to her feet and screamed at him, unable to contain the anger she felt for his idiotic questions. Was he trying to provoke her? Was he really so dismissive of his mother?Pushing past the trucker, she hurried back to the foyer, wiping tears from her eyes.

She decided then that she would never again return to Cedar Grove.


	26. Entry 6

_April 20th 1976_

_Seeing that woman today made me think. Though me and my parents don't always get along, am I capable of abandoning them?_

_In hindsight, however, I suppose I do have some empathy for Travis. Afterall, the woman was clearly out of her mind, and according to one of the orderlies, she often talks of "mirror people" who communicate with her beyond the glass. It seems like a typical case of Spectrophobia wherin a person simply cannot gaze into a mirror without fear. _

_Under the circumstances, I would not wish to see either of my parents in such a state. Perhaps it's for the best that Travis tries to forget about her. The concept of time is beyond the woman, who still believes he is a young boy. How tragic. My grandmother must have been incredibly strong willed to retain her sanity in that God forsaken place._

_Understandably, Kaufman was grumpy about my impromptu tour through the sanitarium, all but thrusting a tattered cardboard box into my arms. Pictures, clothing and the occassional notebook seemed to adorn the patient's personal posessions. An old man, clinging to what little life he had left. Another wave of sadness hit me._

_I have also been burdened with caring for Alessa Gillespie, who was brought in early this morning after a fire was started at her home. The local paper has already published an article about the incident, stating that it was started by a malfunctioning antiquated boiler._

_Before my shift ended, I went to dress Alessa's wounds, trying to be as swift and unassuming as possible. That dark room is fueled by hatred, and when I step inside, it's almost as though an aura of deep loathing encases me. Chest heaving ever so slightly, I knew that she was alive. Accompanied by nothing but the constant beeping of a life support machine, I removed the old bandages with haste, trying to avoid gazing directly at her face._

_I must have been hallucinating again, because when I finished embalming her, the fresh bandages immediately became stained with blood and pus, oozing from the thick cloth like a porous sponge. Not wanting to leave her like that, I changed them once more, only to witness the same thing happen. It was like a horror movie, and the stench was unbearable. It scared me, so I took my key and locked the door as I left, hoping to forget what I had seen._

_It must be withdrawral symptoms. My nerves are erratic. I just need a shot of PTV. A quick inhale, and then all of this will go away. _


	27. Rot

'I can do this.'

Lisa balked as she gazed at her reflection, sodden from where she had rinsed her weary eyes with a jolt of cold water. Palms gripping the basin tightly, she tapped a foot impatiently against the tile, ignoring the curious gaze of passing co-workers that jostled in and out of the stalls.

Though it had only been a few days, caring for Alessa had taken its toll on the girl, who had started using PTV more frequently, and at a higher dosage than was healthy. Now she finally realized why addicts were willing to sell their soul in exchange for drugs.

Entering that room was like being confined to an oubliette, smeared in loneliness and menace. Despite the dim light, there was no denying the strange pulsating made by the walls, as though it were a womb weeping the loss of a foetus; a body missing a soul.

Disturbing groans and mechanical noises resonated through her ears like a hellish orchestra tearing at her sanity. Nausea swelled in her gut, regardless of whether or not she had eaten, leaving the nurse heaving over the toilet bowl, undignified and afraid.

It often seemed as though the child was calling out to her, gasping low, struggling breaths that drifted through the air like whispers. Lisa couldn't make out the words, if they were words at all, no longer sure of anything, and confused by the warped reality that seemed to exist in that dark, confined space.

'It has to be the drug. I'm just seeing things, that's all.'

Nails tapping the white surface, she noted that her flesh looked more ashen than usual, as though the very essence of colour had been drained from her world.

A headache irritated her skull, reverberating back and forth like a collection of guitar strings strumming against her temples. With a sigh, she cupped her hands beneath the clear fluid, leaning in to gulp down the refreshing liquid.

It was simply impossible to fathom how the Gillespie girl was still alive, having believed the brittle creature would perish after the first twenty-four hours had passed. Sometimes she wondered whether to remove the life support, ending both the child's misery and her own.

As wicked as those thoughts were, Lisa didn't believe she could ever accomplish something so cruel. Besides, a sneaking suspicion told her that Alessa would still survive somehow. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was certainly some untold secret lurking beyond the veil Kaufman had placed over her eyes.

Returning to the eerily quiet foyer, Lisa paused upon hearing a woman's muffled voice resonating from beyond the director's office. Sneaking towards the growing noise, she lingered before the ominous wood, eavesdropping on their hushed conversation.

Dahlia had been coming to see the doctor quite regularly, often in regards to her ailing daughter. Though the man refused to divulge specific information, Lisa doubted that the unpleasant woman held any good intentions.

In her late thirties, the mother looked much older, with long unkempt hair that concealed her sly, hostile mien. An aura of distrust seemed to flow wherever she went, and the intern considered her an irritating and meddlesome person.

'How much longer is this going to continue?' The man's low growl questioned.

'Soon.' The Gillespie replied, sounding eager. 'I'm hoping to complete it soon.'

'Good, make sure you do. If someone were to find her down there...'

'Do not fret.' She interrupted, chuckling quietly to herself. 'Everything is going as planned. A new dawn is about to befall us, cleansing this smeared world of its sin.'

Kaufman scoffed. 'Nothing you say makes any sense. Regardless, I care little about your plans, so long as you are able to provide me with my payment.'

'In due time, doctor. All in due time.'

With that, the voices dissipated into humid air, an empty requiem leaving a hollow space where life had once been. Slumping against the wall, the teen tried to decipher the mysterious woman's words, bewildered and confused by each line that she spoke.

It wasn't difficult to discern that the older Gillespie was suspect in regards to the strange house fire, yet the girl refused to accept that a mother could do something so monstrous to her own flesh and blood. Just who was this woman?

Lisa didn't believe in the occult. She considered magic and witchcraft to be nothing more than silly fantasy. Her grandfather's tales had left her spellbound as an adolescent, but with adulthood came cynicism and doubt.

Now she was beginning to wonder whether such things were real. Perhaps some mystical incantation had allowed Alessa to continue living, long after others would have died? Shaking her head, the intern found it hard to believe such ludicrous nonsense, but there was no logical explanation.

Quickly fitting fractured pieces together, the young nurse was able to figure out that Kaufman was accepting money from Dahlia in exchange for keeping Alessa obscured inside the basement. How the owner of a tiny antique store was able to acquire such funds remained unknown, but the teen was certain Dahlia wasn't working alone.

Just what had she gotten herself into?

The abrupt rattle of a doorknob startled the intern, causing her to yelp when the door flew open, barely missing her as she skidded back to avoid injury. Shaking slightly, she spun and hurried off in the opposite direction, trying to avoid being seen.

Nose in the air as she walked, Dahlia strut towards the exit, behaving as though the entire world was soiled and stagnant beneath her feet. With nary a passing glance, she disappeared beyond the fog, silhouette fading in the hazy sheen.

Hiding behind a corner, the nurse watched as her boss stood in the doorway of his office, fists clenched and brow furrowed as he tried to contain his anger. It was obvious that the mother had ruffled him, something which very few people were capable of.

Taking a moment to calm herself, she smoothed out her uniform before plastering a content smile on her face, walking towards the man with feigned indifference as she obfuscated all knowledge about their confidential meeting.

'Something wrong?' She quizzed, doing her best to appear casual. 'You look upset.'

He grunted in response, turning to storm back inside his office. The door remained open, swinging slightly in the soft breeze that drifted from the street. Fidgeting hesitantly where she stood, Lisa jumped when the man barked at her.

'Well, are you coming in or aren't you!?'

Stepping into the humid space, she slammed the door more harshly than she would have usually done, irked by Kaufman's rude attitude. Leaning against the wood with her arms folded at the chest, she peered at him from beneath her fringe, watching as he yanked open a desk drawer to remove a bottle of brandy and two glasses.

Unscrewing the lid, he poured a little of the substance in each one, leaning back in his chair whilst carefully pushing the remaining glass towards her. It slid to a stop at the edge of the wood, sending drops of liquid splattering across the surface.

'You drink?' He queried, tapping the tip of his glass.

The girl shook her head. 'No.'

'You do now.' He replied, gesturing to the waiting seat.

Tentatively sitting down, she took her drink and examined it closely, tilting the glass just enough to sniff the golden brown fluid. A strong aroma tickled her nostrils, invading her senses and making the teen recoil.

It wasn't the most pleasant odour she had ever inhaled, but it certainly wasn't the worst. Alcohol was another forbidden fruit of her family, and despite both her mother and father indulging in it from time to time, she was prohibited from doing so.

'You're not going to try it?' He quizzed, curiously lifting a single eyebrow.

'I'm not supposed to...'

The man released a spiteful laugh. 'It can't be any worse than PTV.'

Lowering her gaze, the intern realized how silly her argument must have sounded. In truth, she was reluctant to try the brandy because of it's overpowering stench, rather than any loyalty to her parents. Lifting her shoulder in a lazy shrug, she gulped back the alcohol.

Spluttering at the flavour, her face contorted into an ugly scowl as she gagged on the taste, wiping her drenched lips with the back of her hand. With a bland expression, the director finished his own, placing the glass down on the ring of moisture that had formed.

'Did I forget to mention that it's quite strong?' He stated, pouring himself another shot. 'Try sipping at it next time.'

Frowning, the nurse took another, more cautious drink, able to swallow without coughing, but still not entirely enjoying the foul brew. This wasn't something she could grow accustomed to. Cupping the brandy in her lap, she had no intention of finishing it.

Kaufman downed another, moving to pour himself a third glass. His normally cool and controlled demeanour was slowly coming apart at the seams, plucked by the Gillespie's talons as she whittled down the director's patience.

It was apparent that he had underestimated his involvement in her scheme, and whatever she had planned, it seemed that Kaufman was now regretting his decision. Placing her almost empty cup on the desk, Lisa let both hands settle on her knees.

'You seem tense.'

He made a rude sound, swirling the amber fluid with a flick of his wrist. When he didn't reply, the intern shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The man never gave her a straight answer, and she found this frustrating.

Lifting her head to the ceiling, she closed her eyes and waited until he was ready to speak, knowing that there was some reason for him inviting her into his office. Being a private person, he only ever did so when there was important information to share.

'How is the girl?' He asked, in relation to Alessa.

'No change.' His employee remarked, bringing her gaze to him. 'I can't understand how she's still alive. It's not possible.'

'Do you believe in miracles?'

She shook her head. 'Miracles don't save lives.'

'Then perhaps you're just good at your job?'

Unamused by his reaction, the girl sighed loud enough to display her annoyance, turning to eye the bookcase to her left. Almost every item on the shelf pertained to something medical, as she would have expected from someone working in the field of medicine.

None of them were particularly interesting, but they served their purpose of making the room look professional. Most were gathered in dust, and it became apparent that the man was too lazy to keep his room clean. She smiled at the thought, unable to imagine him doing any sort of domestic chore.

'How much of our conversation did you hear?' Kaufman enquired, glancing slyly at her from above his glass. 'And don't pretend that you didn't listen.'

'What do you mean?' She struggled to keep her voice steady, heart pounding as she forced bright eyes to remain on his.

'You're not quiet.' He said, turning to face her. 'I saw you run when I opened the door. Now tell me, how much did you hear?'

Cursing her own curiosity, Lisa reluctantly confessed. 'Only a little, but I've no idea what she was talking about. It all seemed like gibberish.'

'As expected. That crazy woman talks in riddles.'

A brief quiet befell the pair, almost peaceful in the silence of his warm office. Letting herself slump where she sat, the woman tediously examined her nails, running fingertips over the chipped edges with dwindling interest.

'Was Dahlia here to see Alessa?' She finally asked, hoping the man would reveal more about their intriguing discussion. 'I bet she gets lonely down there, all by herself.'

'What Gillespie does is of no concern to you. The only thing you need to worry about is taking care of the girl.'

Deciding to ignore his warning tone, Lisa continued with her interrogation. 'Dahlia started the fire, didn't she?'

The man poured himself another drink, obviously unwilling to answer her question. Stubborn and persistent, she leaned forward until both her palms were pressed against the desk, determined to uncover the truth.

'Her own daughter! How can you justify and condone something so terrible? She's just a child, and you're being paid to keep her like that.' She spat, pointing at the floor to indicate the basement.

'What are you going to do, call the police?' He suggested, nonchalantly raising a hand. Lisa hesitated, dejectedly bowing her head in defeat. Satisfied, the doctor leaned back in the leather of his chair, soft fabric yielding beneath his weight. 'We all do unpleasant things sometimes. You're not exactly a paragon of perfection.'

'But...' She began, losing her courage when he threw her a glare.

'Listen to me. Even if Dahlia did start that fire, you have no proof to support the accusation. All we can do is keep Alessa comfortable, and do our best to treat her accordingly.'

'I guess.' She shrugged, uncertainty creeping into her voice.

He was right. Going to the police would have a devastating effect on not only her career, but also her personal life. There was nothing to suggest the woman was guilty beyond speculation, and no sane person would ever believe her crazy anecdotes of magic and witchcraft. She hardly believed them herself.

And what of this "occult?" If Gillespie's ramblings held any truth, then how could Lisa be sure that members of the police weren't also affiliated with her? How could she be sure Kaufman wasn't a zealot, worshipping whatever idol it was that those people adored?

Deflated from her efforts, and emotionally drained from the weeks events, the teenager got up to leave, not even waiting for the man's permission. She needed some time alone, solitude away from the beep and whine of noisy equipment.

'Leaving so soon?' He asked, rhetorically.

'I've got work to do.'

'Of course.' Putting the remaining brandy back in the drawer, Kaufman checked his watch. 'Miss Garland, are you free this afternoon?'

'Excuse me?' She paused, hand brushing the doorknob.

'Riverside Motel isn't far. They have a lovely suite there. Lots of flowers and hearts. Very romantic. Would you care to join me?'

Dumbfounded, the nurse let her mouth hang open for a moment, mien contorting into an expression of bewilderment. 'That's sudden. What happened to your surly exterior?'

'You're welcome to say no.'

'I don't need anymore PTV.'

He smiled. 'This isn't an exchange. It's merely two people letting off steam.'

It was appealing, even if she didn't want to admit it. Her stiff shoulders betrayed her tension, and she could tell from the director's body language that he was also aching. It would be nice, she thought, to have something other than Alessa on her mind.

'What's wrong with the other motel?'

'I like to keep things interesting. Unless you'd prefer the company of that grim hole?'

Before she decided to change her mind, and in no rush to hurry back to the glum bedrooms of Haerbay Inn, the young woman gave him a small nod, body yearning for his touch despite her mind's protests. In the end, her demands outweighed her sense.

'What time do we meet?'

Tilting his head to one side, the director clasped his hands together, examining her. 'What time is your break?'


	28. Degrade

In the interim leading up to their engagement, the intern left the hospital to take a troubled walk through the streets of Silent Hill, mourning how something so tragic had brought her and the doctor closer together.

The fog had eventually cleared, paving way for beams of sunlight to pierce the grey hue that cascaded upon the town. She wasn't cold, instead finding that the star's warmth was keeping her from feeling the occasional breeze that caressed her bare legs.

Lacking the appetite to eat, she passed the Taco Shack restaurant with a lour, stomach turning as she breathed in grease laden air wafting from the vents. She hardly ate much of anything, finding that food lacked the appeal it once had.

Before heading to the theatre, she'd decided to stop by the local library in search of books pertaining to the occult. It all seemed so ridiculous, and she felt slightly embarrassed at the prospect of being seen studying such a topic.

Many of them produced little more than brief snippets of useless information, most of which regarded witchcraft and demonology. Interesting though it was, nothing could explain the strange and mysterious circumstances surrounding Alessa's hospitilization.

Magic was certainly not unheard of throughout history, yet Lisa had always considered it smart trickery. Now, after reading the in-depth texts available to her, she was beginning to doubt everything logic had taught her.

Valtiel? Samael? Who were these creatures, and why were they so highly regarded amidst the town's myths and legends? What if everything she had ever known was a lie?

On the verge of giving up her quest for answers, one chapter suddenly caught the girl's eye. Fire was often considered a means of cleansing sin from the world. It was frequently said to be one of the few ways a demon could be disposed of, and was widely viewed as a viable, almost noble method of sacrifice.

Uncomfortable, the nurse felt as though a strange force was absorbing her soul with every page that she turned; the frigid paper rough and coarse as it slid beneath her fingers. A shiver clambered down her spine as she realized the horrific implications regarding Alessa.

If it were a horror movie, she could almost forgive herself for buying into such silly superstitions. It was to be expected, afterall. But this was real life, and in reality, mothers didn't burn their daughters. They didn't offer them as lambs to the slaughter.

And yet, she truly thought Dahlia capable of an act so cruel.

What other reason could the woman have for wanting to torture her child in such a way? If the girl had simply died, it would have been easier to pass off the incident as an accident. That woman was delusional, and from what the books had said, she seemed intent on summoning the legendary creature illustrated on those pages.

But then, if the ritual had failed, why was Alessa still doomed to suffer in that lugubrious cell? They certainly weren't doing anything to help her.

Mentally exhausted, the intern was glad to arrive at Artaud Theatre, deserted except for a dwindling party slowly dispersing as she arrived. Head swimming from the many puzzles that tormented her mind, the teen was eager to settle herself in a familiar location, away from the trouble and strife of the demanding hospital.

The foyer was almost empty, occupied only by several members of cleaning staff. The next show wasn't for another couple of hours, leaving her free to wander as she pleased. Sneaking into the main stage, she seated herself in one of the chairs, gazing off into the distance.

It wasn't acceptable for customers to waltz through the doors without permission, but nobody had bothered to stop her, and she felt that worrying over something so arbitrary was utterly trivial compared to some of the things she had done.

It was peaceful in that darkened room, alone with nothing but the distant sound of creaking pipes to disturb her. Blissfully basking in memories of what could have been, the young woman almost wished she'd had the courage to stand up to her mother many years before.

This was where it had all started. Her desire to act, her mother's intolerance, the constant emotional manipulation that consequently led to her becoming a nurse, and from there on, Kaufman, PTV and Alessa.

Though her parents were partly to blame, Lisa also persecuted herself, her weakness, the inability to simply be as audacious as she had always wanted to be. In the end, she was nothing but a silly, foolish child, unable to wield the reigns of her own life.

For that, she sympathized with Alessa.

A beam of light abruptly disturbed her thoughts, tearing through the shadows like a vengeful dagger. Sitting upright, she turned her head towards the approaching figure.

Travis didn't notice she was there, at least not initially. As he walked down the aisle, she couldn't help but muse at how they two of them kept bumping into one another, almost as though the threads of fate had sewn them together.

Her red cardigan blended with the surrounding decor, providing ideal camouflage to conceal her from view. As the truck driver passed, a glimmer of recognition met his eyes, turning to stare at the woman flickering at the edge of his peripheral vision.

'What are you doing here Lisa?'

His tone sounded strained, as though her were agitated. The look in his wide eyes suggested otherwise, implying that he was simply startled by her unexpected presence. A wry smile curved the teen's lips, amused by his reaction.

'Sorry if I startled you. I thought I was the only one in here.'

Angling her body towards him, she let a hand rest in her lap, the other placed palm down on the seat. Peeking at him from beneath a curtain of hair, she couldn't resist the urge to play coy, finding that there was a certain charm to his confusion.

'It's dangerous.' He warned, face serious and unwavering.

The girl laughed, 'Dangerous, you're kidding?'

She pondered what meaning those worlds held. What was there to fear? A woman, alone in an empty theatre, surrounded by nothing but the buzz of insects and the whine of noisy old foundations. He was certainly a strange man.

But his concern for her was endearing. He wasn't her type, not at all, but if she viewed him from a certain perspective, maybe tilted her head to the side, he almost appeared quite cute.

'The door was open, so I let myself in.'

Slowly standing to her full height, Lisa lowered her lashes, approaching him with a sultry sway as she prepared to indulge in his slight unease, enjoying the trucker's discomfort as he took a small yet obvious step back.

He was on edge. How unexpected.

'I just love the theatre Travis. I want to be an actress.' She told him earnestly, one hip cocked as she beamed at him. 'But, mom was a nurse and her mom was a nurse, so I'm going to be a nurse.'

It had been a long time since she had confessed her aspirations to anyone. Even if he was just a stranger, it was nice to finally confide in somebody. It didn't matter if he held no interest in what she had to say, so long as she was able to say it.

'I've got what it takes though.' The teenager exhaled, adopting a seductive stance . 'I can't stop thinking about you, Travis.'

She grinned, coquettishly moving close, inhaling the scent of oil and gasoline that streamed from him. Travis seemed disturbed by the sudden change, but he didn't balk, nor did he try to shove her away, merely leaning back while he tried to gauge the situation.

She couldn't blame the man. Afterall, a young woman was openly flirting with him, interlocking both arms around his neck so that their bodies were inches from touching. Nose brushing his, the truck driver pulled back a little, nervous.

'I want you, you're all I think about.' She whispered, meeting his shifting eyes as the man tried to find something else to focus on.

Standing on the tips of her toes, Lisa caressed his cheek with a hand, feeling him shift beneath her as he turned to gaze at the palm on his shoulder, nails gently plucking at the fabric of his shirt. He didn't understand.

'Let's get the hell out of this crazy town. Run off, just the two of us. We could be so good together.' Voice alluring, she placed her mouth inches from his, watching as Travis closed his eyes and turned away.

Unable to continue the charade, and feeling guilty at having teased him in such a manner, the nurse pushed him back with a pitched guffaw, spinning in a circle before coming to a stop in the aisle, posing playfully before him.

'See, I could be a star!'

Hands on her hips, she dazzled him with a bright smile, content that she was able to fool him with her act. She was in complete control, and it was immensely satisfying.

The man began to chuckle, warming up considerably now that she had quenched his worry. 'Yeah...' He said, almost finding comfort in the fact that she wasn't serious.

'Well, see you around.'

Pivoting on her heel, she made to leave, happy at having succeeded in making Travis smile. It was cruel of her to torment him like that, but she had enjoyed being in charge, taking the opportunity to manipulate someone else. It was harmless fun, and she hoped Travis would forgive her.

After spending her whole life under the thumb of her oppressive mother, and then being used by Kaufman, just once she wanted to experience what it was like to have that power, to be the dominant one as opposed to the submissive role she had unwittingly been given.

Now, Lisa knew that it was time to head for the motel. She had to play the lapdog once again.


	29. Fester

'Tell me about yourself.'

Lisa let her head rest in the curve of Kaufman's arm, eyes closed as she let his fingers encircle a lock of her hair, his free hand softly running down the length of her arm.

The room wasn't quite as romantic as he had claimed, with only a heart shaped bed to set the mood. Honestly, she found it tacky, but it was more attractive than that sordid motel room.

The experience hadn't been as intolerable as the first time, and though there was still some measure of discomfort, she found it far more pleasant. Lifting her leg so that it wrapped around his, she inhaled the powerful scent of aftershave and sweat.

With a grunt, the director gazed down at her. 'There's nothing to tell.'

Bright pupils staring back at him, the girl pulled a face. 'Of course there is. Are you married? Divorced? Any kids? Pets?'

The man smirked in response, hand shifting to her bare shoulder, protruding from the askew bedsheets. 'Would it matter if I had a wife?'

'I guess not.' She replied, a little disappointed.

'And no, I don't have any pets, nor children.'

'Ever thought about it?'

Exhaling, he released his grip on the intern's hair. 'No. I'm a busy man, with little time or patience to deal with either of those.'

Nestling against his chest, the nurse remained unphased by his comments, already presuming he wasn't a fan of any creature that would demand his precious attention. Somebody like him would never be able to upkeep a relationship. The man was a workaholic. He craved money, and lived for his job. Everything else, including his morals, came second.

Trailing a finger across his naked flesh, the teenager listened to the soft beating of the doctor's heart, pulsing against her cheek as she settled comfortably into his arm. Smiling contently, she knew that this peace would not last, merely satisfied with enjoying the moment whilst she could.

'What about you?' His subdued, lazy tone enquired. 'Have you ever thought about marriage?'

She didn't reply, taking some time to really think about the question. Seventeen was far too young to consider such a commitment, and certainly too premature to consider having children. Perhaps one day she would change her opinion, when she was older and more mature, but for the moment, she had a lot of problems that she needed to sort through.

No, she wasn't ready to take that step. She feared she may never have been able to dive into the complicated and frightening world of motherhood. And as for marriage, well, wedded bliss would be all but impossible with her current predicament. Kaufman was becoming as addictive as the PTV she so desperately craved.

'Maybe one day.' She managed, her words lacking enthusiasm.

Though she tried to ignore them, thoughts of Alessa soon swamped her mind, drowning out all sensation until she could feel nothing but an odd discomfort. That girl had become a spirit, following her wherever she went like a tortured soul demanding justice. It was arduous.

Lips dry, she ran the tip of her rough tongue over the cracked surface, wishing she had remembered to bring her lip balm. There had been something she had desperately wanted to ask the man, but she was far too afraid to put forth such a question.

Why couldn't Alessa die?

He would most likely react with dismissive irritation, as he so often did when faced with a topic he chose not to discuss. She was growing weary of it. The director had invited her into his world of deceit, yet he refrained from revealing any secrets pertaining to it.

'There's something wrong with that child.' Kaufman shifted beneath her, jaw clenched as he tried to avoid her piercing gaze. When he didn't respond, she repeated herself. 'That girl, she should be dead. There's something very wrong about this.'

'I thought I told you not to pry into my business?'

Pushing herself upright, Lisa allowed the bed sheets to fall from her slender frame, not caring that her nude figure was on display. Kneeling on the matress, she winced as a sharp spring wore away at the thin fabric, slightly grazing her shin.

'Your business is my business! You made that abundantly clear when you got me involved.'

Her fingers clasped the duvet so tightly that her knuckles turned white, back hunched as she leaned forward to scowl at him. Without a retort, the man drew himself away from her, making to stand as he set about getting dressed.

The teenager looked on, affronted that he wouldn't even provide her with an answer. Suddenly cold, the nurse shivered from the abrupt chill, rubbing at arms now erect with goosebumps. Cupping both hands in her lap, she watched as her boss gradually slid into more layers of clothing.

It were as though he was concealing his brittle core, donning that overly expensive suit and tie to disguise the bare, brutal truth that lay dormant underneath.

'I've done my research.' She mumbled, matching his movements as she slid back into discarded underwear. 'This is a dangerous game you're playing.'

'What exactly are you referring to?' He quizzed, pausing to glare at her.

'The Order. Samael. Dahlia's insane scheme.' Shaking her head, the intern squirmed, feeling disgusted at not having showered. She felt dirty and unclean. 'It's magic. It has to be. I know you're going to tell me I'm crazy, but there's no other explanation.'

The older man chuckled disconcertingly, making the young woman swallow her next sentence. It was a sinister sort of laugh, one that sent shivers down her spine.

'Honestly, I really don't care about that woman, or about your concerns. I'm doing this for profit, not because I have any loyalty to the cult.' He pulled on his tie, creating a firm knot that sat against his collarbone. 'Even if witchcraft existed, there's simply no way for you to prove it. Really, who is going to believe you?'

Resolve fading, Lisa reluctantly admitted defeat, knowing that he was right. She had no one to confide in, and even if she did summon the courage to speak, the threat of Kaufman's retaliation forever loomed above her head.

There were days when the man would stare unwaveringly in her direction, a reminder that he was always watching, wherever she was, whatever she did. Even at home, in the security of her bedroom, the nurse did not feel safe.

Could he see her there, sprawled on the bed, eyes rolling into her skull as a bag of PTV sat atop her desk? Did he smile arrogantly upon realizing that she would always come back to him, swooning like a lovesick puppy to his door?

He owned her, and though she couldn't see it, a transparent leash looped around her neck, trailing back into his greedy hand. There was a menacing, darker side to the doctor, and she was terrified of drawing it out.

'I can't keep doing this.' She stated, pinning her cap into place. The palms of her hands ran down her bob, smoothing loose strands of auburn hair. 'It's too much. It's too hard.'

'You don't really have a choice.' He replied, matter-of-factly.

'How long are you going to keep her there?' She almost pleaded, eyes begging for him to release her from the tedious duty.

'Until she is no longer needed.'

The intern opened her mouth to respond, but was swiftly cut off by the sound of footsteps out in the hall. Pulse hammering as she prayed that nobody had overheard their conversation, the nurse clamped her jaw shut, reaching out to take her red cardigan.

Though the complex was empty, it was almost easy to forget that the walls had ears, with every sound seeping determinedly through the various cracks and crevices. A man's voice could be heard in the distance, mumbling to himself. Lisa recognized it, and from the doctor's reaction, he did too.

'Travis Grady.' He hissed, brow furrowed at the mere mention of his name. 'That man is everywhere. What a nuisance.'

'Why do you hate him so much?' Lisa enquired, admittedly agitated that their discussion had been cut short. 'He's not a bad guy.'

Kaufman raised his eyes to the ceiling, tracing the direction of sound with an unhappy snarl. 'Just like you, that man needs to stop butting his nose into my personal affairs.'

There was something unusual about his behaviour, and though it was highly coincidental that the tuck driver happened to bump into them wherever they were, the director's actions led his employee to believe that Travis knew more about the events than he should have.

Lisa's prying clearly annoyed him, but Grady was a loose cannon, capable of disrupting everything the doctor had worked so hard to accomplish. And unlike the nurse, his silence couldn't be bought.

Seating herself on the edge of the bed, Lisa began to slip on her pumps, thick material snapping against her heels as she hurriedly tried to finish dressing. Kaufman joined her on the adjacent side, affixing his collar as the sudden glare of a torch illuminated the room.

Kaufman had warned her that Riverside was all but defunct, and that they had been granted access to the room purely as a favour from one of his associates. Even so, she could not suppress surprise at the knowledge that Travis had tumbled from the ceiling, breaking any privacy they may have had.

A plate of white powder sat on the dressing table, and the teen cursed at having forgotten to dispose of the evidence. The trucker seemed nonchalant about the whole affair, as if nothing could sway him, but still she worried.

Had he been eavesdropping? She certainly hoped not.

Keeping her head bowed, she prepared to leave the den of shame, having no inclination to discuss anything with their guest. The trucker called out to her, but all she could do was offer him an irked reply, riddled with misguided spite and unnecessary scorn.

Yes she was angry, but not with him.

Outside in the gloomy hall, she wrapped both arms around herself, soles scuffing the threadbare surface as she scuttled towards the exit. Moments later the director caught up with her, matching her pace perfectly as they walked in tandem.

'That meddlesome man is starting to bother me.' He growled, placing emphasis on his words. 'He's like a damn stalker.'

Peering at him from behind her fringe, the teen released a gust of hot air. 'Maybe we should stop this whole Alessa business? I mean, if Travis tells anyone-'

'He won't.' It was abrupt and stern, cutting her of before she could finish.

'You don't know that.' She pushed, moving closer to him. 'If we get rid of the evidence, then we can't be charged with anything.'

'And what do you suggest we do with the child, hmm?' He questioned, not expecting a reply. 'No, there is no way to destroy something like that.'

_That?_ He made her sound like she was some sort of object, rather than a living creature. To Kaufman, the girl was just a means to an end and nothing more. Of course, Lisa knew she couldn't chastise him without sounding like a hypocrite. They were more alike than she cared to admit.

'I think we should stop.' The nurse said, voice barely audible. 'Alessa is different. She's not like us. I can feel it when I'm in the room with her. A horrible, chocking sensation, as though she's trying to speak to me.'

The doctor shook his head. 'She can't talk. Her vocal chords are too damaged.'

'I didn't mean with her mouth.' She responded, feeling sheepish as she heard the words escape her lips. It sounded ridiculous. 'With her...mind.' She tapped her head with a finger, noticing how her boss' expression soured.

Grabbing her wrist, Kaufman lowered his voice until it was so low that she could almost feel the Earth quake beneath her feet. 'I have asked you to do one thing, and one thing only. Be a good girl; keep quiet, and do your job.'

His grip hadn't been tight, but she was suddenly frightened by his physical outburst, lingering behind as he stormed ahead. A nausea bubbled in her gut, and the intern squeezed her stomach tightly. It was happening again. She was going to be sick.


	30. Entry 7

_April 25th 1976_

_I'm scared. _

_It's becoming harder for me to look others in the eye, terrified that they might be affiliated with Kaufman, Dahlia or any of those other cult zealots._

_Do they even exist? The library books indicate that they do, but I can't tell if its fact or merely fiction. How do I know who to trust? Even the police make me nervous, fearful that I might say the wrong thing to the wrong person. _

_I don't want to die. _

_Am I going insane?. Maybe that's it? Maybe I'm just as loopy as that Grady woman? Yes, I've lost it. I've completely lost it. Nobody else seems capable of hearing and seeing the strange and horrific things I have been forced to witness. How could I possibly explain them?_

_It's the drug, it's a mental breakdown, it's everything and anything that makes logical sense, because I can't bear to admit that a six year old girl is causing all of this._

_Just how long is that child going to cling to her miserable existence? I almost wish she would fade away and free me from my duty. Its a horrible thing to hope for, but I actually want her to die. I just want to forget about all of this. _

_I put the plastic bag inside my toilet tank. Nobody will find it there! Its waterproof, so the PTV won't get wet. My special place. I think I'll need another dose soon._

_My hand is shaking._


	31. Moulder

**AN: Ah, the mysterious videotape. Not much is known about it, though it can be assumed Kaufman was trying to blackmail Lisa. I know its exclusive to SH1/SH3, but as we only see Lisa's scalp, its difficult to ascertain how long her hair is. Therefore, I'm going to shift things round a little bit, and the tape now takes place during the 70's.**

'Please have a seat.'

Lisa hesitated in the examination room, cold despite the mid-summer warmth. Somehow, everything now seemed stale, a metallic tang burning her tongue as she examined the video camera perched at the opposite end of the table.

The hospital was rarely quiet, nor was it ever empty. In such a building, that was impossible. There were however, dins in activity, allowing the staff a moment to relax amidst the hustle and bustle of busy workloads.

The intern knew that something was wrong the moment Kaufman had locked the door, an act that was no doubt morally wrong. She didn't feel comfortable being alone with him, and though she considered calling for help, the girl found herself spurned into silence, driven by an overwhelming curiosity to see what he was planning.

'I'll stand.' She replied, tugging at the hem of her cardigan.

'Please sit down.' The man repeated, more sternly than before.

Exhaling, the nurse pulled back the wooden chair, slowly lowering herself into it with a hint of caution. Fingers strumming against the tabletop, she tried to quell her shaking breath, watching as the doctor moved to unclasp the lens cap.

It was almost dawn, and the teen had been hoping to return home after finishing her shift. Alessa hadn't shown any improvement, and the nurse needed a fix of PTV to help ease her into a deep slumber. Insomnia was difficult to cure, and the substance worked better than regular sleeping pills.

A rush of questions assaulted her thoughts, but she couldn't find the courage to ask them, voice lost in a sea of emotion as she sat in the midst of a turbulent storm. Heartbeat erratic, she dug both heels into the tile, body cold as she started to sweat.

Silently, the doctor moved to stand behind the camera, messing with a selection of unseen buttons as he made preparations. Whatever scenario she was about to find herself in, the intern knew she wasn't going to like it.

_I could really use Travis right about now. _She mused, sincerely hoping that the trucker would barge in and interrupt, as he so often did.

'Now, Miss Garland.' He said, adjusting the equipment so that it would frame her correctly. 'You and I are going to have a little chat.'

'What?' She managed, before choking on her words.

'When the red light comes on, that means I am recording you.' He stated, tapping the tiny bulb in the corner of the camera. 'You are then going to describe the task of caring for Alessa.'

She blinked at him in confusion, surprised that he would ask her to do something so incriminating. Did he wish to confess his illicit activities? That seemed like something he would never do, and left the girl feeling dubious.

'Before you respond, I must ask you not to mention my name. If you fail to comply, I will stop the recording, and we will begin again. Do you understand?'

Mouth agape, all the teen could do was blink, swallowing thick lumps of saliva that gathered in her throat. 'Why are you making me do this?'

'Insurance.' He bluntly replied. 'It seems you've been having second thoughts. Unfortunately, in this business there is no turning back. You can rewind the tape on this cassette.' He said, petting the camera. 'But you can't reverse the mistakes you make in life.'

'How is this helping?' She asked, leaning forward until her shoulders were inches from the table. 'I don't understand, it seems counter-productive.'

The director shook his head. 'Blackmail is an ugly word, for an ugly act. I am simply ensuring that you don't get any ideas about running to the authorities. If you do, I have this tape as evidence of your guilt.'

'And what if I say no.' She defiantly snapped, disgusted at his actions. 'Afterall, you forced me to do it. I'm not guilty of anything.'

'Is that so?' He scoffed, throwing her an arrogant sneer. 'Then why were you so afraid of Travis going to the police?'

Moving to stand beside her, the director gazed at his employee from above, ensuring that she knew he would always overpower her. Gnawing on her bottom lip, the nurse returned his confident smirk with an icy glare, nails grazing the chipped wood.

Damn it, he'd ensnared her.

'Do you know of Toluca Prison?' He finally spoke, suit brushing against the table as he returned to his spot behind the tripod. 'It was a filthy place, where they used to house the most deviant of criminals. Many were hanged for their crimes.'

'Are you trying to scare me, because it's not working.' She lied, clenching both hands to prevent them from trembling.

'I wasn't trying to scare you. As a matter of fact, I was going to state how merciful death was, compared to living with the stigma of your sins. You would lose your job, your respect, your future. You'd be completely ruined.'

Petrified, the woman could hear the rush of blood pumping through her ears, heart beating so wildly that she feared it might stop at any second. Thumb pressed against her wrist, she struggled to steady her pulse, waiting for the moment when it would vanish, leaving her to crumble upon the earth, dead and undignified.

Silent Hill was a small town, certainly for those who were raised there. Even the slightest hearsay could travel through the neighbourhood in record time. Imagine how mortified the citizens would be if they new what the sweet, smiling and sincere Miss Garland had been doing.

How could she ever face her demons? It was unthinkable that a girl with such a wholesome reputation would suddenly fall from grace, committing the vile atrocity of caring for a perpetually ill child, left to wallow in the darkness of her own tortured thoughts.

Nobody would speak to her. She would be reviled, scorned, unemployed, disowned by her own parents. Wherever she traveled, so would those haunting whispers, forever tickling her senses with foul, hatred smothered words.

'If I go down, I'm taking you with me.' She snarled, fighting the urge to lunge forward and release all of her suppressed rage.

'I doubt that.' He replied, voice calm and attention elsewhere. 'Because you are going to accept full responsibility for Alessa's situation. I knew nothing about it. You and that mad Gillespie woman conspired behind my back. Should you refuse, then I will remove your supply of PTV indefinitely.'

Shoulders sagging, the nurse had nothing more to say, gaze on the floor as she waited for Kaufman to finish. That drug was the one thing keeping her from completely cracking under the pressure, and without it, she would be unable to cope.

Brushing away soft slivers of hair, she began to play with her earring, a display of nerves that she hadn't shown in a long time. Wrist twitching, she could still remember the powerful burn that his fingers had left on her slender arm.

He was dangerous, and she didn't feel safe locked in the room with him.

'Are you ready?' He asked, and she gave him a nod.

Of course she wasn't prepared, but what else could she do? Screaming would only draw attention to herself, and though it was a ridiculous excuse, Lisa felt too embarrassed to do so. Clearing her throat, the skittish woman gazed at the camera, almost envisioning the sunlight getting farther away as she was sucked deeper and deeper into a black hole.

The red light blinked into existence, and with the wave of a hand, Kaufman gestured for her to begin. It was difficult at first, and she accidentally mentioned the man's name several times. Each successive take increased the difficulty, and her concentration began to waver as she struggled to remember barely lucid details.

Reflecting on what it must have been like for a person to be interviewed by the police, she decided the sensation was so strenuous, that a criminal lifestyle simply wasn't worth the hassle. In spite of her current quandary, it was quite ironic.

'The newspaper reported the incident as a tragic accident, but the truth was much worse. I knew the girl was beneath the hospital, and I routinely cared for her. The child's mother, Dahlia Gillespie, also knew of the arrangement.'

Dahlia's obviously wasn't aware of his scheme, and she began to suspect that he planned to blackmail both of them. Lisa would be a good little puppet, whilst the woman would offer him a larger cheque. If things went sour, what better way to feign ignorance than proclaiming the young nurse had a guilty conscience, confessing her deceit on camera as a means of relieving herself from the stress of her misconduct?

It was her word against his, and he was a respected doctor, having been in the profession for decades. He could convince the world that she and Dahlia were conspiring with one another, regardless of how unlikely it seemed.

'It was an insurance scam.' The teen lied, deciding that she needed to provide some explanation. Kaufman continued to let the tape run, though he did raise an eyebrow curiously as she spoke. 'Dahlia deliberately started the fire, hoping that she could claim the money. Unfortunately things got out of hand, and her daughter was trapped in the blaze.'

Hunching over the table, she clasped her fingers together, forehead resting atop interlocking hands, eyes clenched shut as she tried not to cry. It was one of the worst things she had ever done, and the lies were flowing through her as naturally as a stream trailing over jagged rocks.

'Alessa knew what her mom had planned, and Dahlia was afraid she would snitch, so the woman asked me to save her daughter's life, but insisted I keep her away from everyone else. We came to an agreement, and soon I was venturing into the basement, caring for the child that everyone thought was dead. In exchange for helping her, Dahlia offered to give me a cut of the profit.'

The old Lisa would never have been able to speak so glibly, and she gagged violently as the words spewed forth. Her austere employer stood in the shadows, expression bland as he let the teen further condemn herself. Gingerly removing her cap, the intern let it carelessly fall to the floor, returning to her forlorn position.

'A month has passed, yet the girl's condition hasn't changed. In fact, I think it's getting worse. She still has an unusually high fever. Eyes don't open, getting a pulse but just barely breathing. Her skin is all charred, even when I change the bandages the blood and pus just start oozing through. Why? What is keeping that child alive?'

Unable to continue, she let herself rest for a moment, the gravity of her predicament weighing heavy on her heart. Nothing could have been more challenging than openly describing just how terribly broken and damaged that little girl was. She didn't want to think about how she would inevitably descend those stairs, once again forced to stare at that blackened husk.

'I...can't stand it any longer...' She wept, tears brimming at the corners of her teal eyes. 'I won't tell a soul, promise. So please...' A brief pause, watching as salty tears exploded against the marred oak. 'Please...forgive me.'

The camera shut off, and though she very much doubted the man would keep that last, desperate part of her admission, the nurse felt some relief in being able to vocalize the feelings she had bottled up inside. Lachrymose, she ran her sleeve across damp eyes, sniffling as stood upright, waiting to be released from the room.

'Thank you, Miss Garland. I appreciate your co-operation.' With that, he unlocked the door, stepping aside as he chivalrously held the door open for her. 'Try not to make a scene, the last thing we need is any unwanted attention.'

Standing in the foyer, she wrapped both arms around herself, toes curling as she embraced the icy draught that crept in from beneath the entrance. All she wanted to do was sleep, lost in dreams where she was able to forget about all the traumatic things she had seen and done.

_Are you satisfied? _She silently asked herself, that tiny voice circling through her mind. _Is this the excitement you were searching for? Is your life worth living now?_

Lisa knew that it wasn't.


	32. Decompose

The nurse had never considered herself particularly religious. Lisa's mother was old fashioned and traditional, often dressing the girl in silly frocks and preaching to her about the importance of keeping up appearances.

Though she would argue and whine, the intern always found herself perched on one of those solid and uncomfortable pews, writhing to and fro as she struggled against the stiff wood that scratched her bare legs.

Attending Sunday mass was something that she found tedious and dull, eyes flitting about the high angled roof as she tried to focus on something more interesting. When it was time to pray, she would clasp her hands together and bow her head, oblivious to the complicated words that seeped from the reverend's lips.

Even her own parents displayed a flicker of boredom, hiding their blatant yawns behind hymn books and badly masked coughs. They did it to be good patrons of the neighbourhood, not because they believed in the values that were expressed.

So Lisa began to ponder what had brought her to Balkan Church that evening, flat shoes scuffing the stone steps as she stood before the opposing door. Sunlight warmed her body as she gazed at the intricately detailed hinges, forged from a powerful black iron.

Was it guilt? Had a yearning for forgiveness driven her to that place? She had never willingly visited the building, which made a pang of fear strike her core as she began to question whether God would be furious at her for seeking refuge only as a last resort. Selfishly, all she wanted to do was feel better about herself.

_Lisa..._

There it was again. That voice, haunting her like some pitiful revenant. All afternoon she had endured the sound of that child calling out to her, beckoning for the woman to come and ease her leaking wounds and lonely heart.

Or maybe it was all in her head? A figment of her imagination. Regardless, the teenager hoped that the solace of those church walls would provide her the comfort she needed. Sanctuary may have been an archaic term, but it was a pleasant one.

Seating herself on one of the forlorn pews, the intern hesitantly brought both palms together, bowing her head as she tried to ignore the tortured expression worn by a statue of Christ, hanging from the ceiling in front.

It made her nervous to think that He could have been watching her, bearing witness to all of the horrible things that she had done. Squeezing her eyes shut, the nurse struggled to retain what little certainty she had left, foot tapping impatiently against the stone floor as she wallowed in her own self-induced pity.

It was darkly amusing how people seemed to lust for salvation only when they desperately sought redemption. If not for Alessa's involvement, Lisa knew she would have never considered entering a place of prayer. That child made her question everything she had ever believed in.

'Come to confess your sins?'

With a gasp, the young woman's expressive eyes shot open, her body spinning at an awkward angle to gaze at the tawdry figure standing in the aisle. Dahlia hadn't made her presence known, but it was obvious she had been there since the intern arrived. There had been no telltale creak of an old and neglected hinge screaming as the door swung open.

Gillespie had watched her silently from the shadows, unkempt hair draping down her shoulders in a murky compound of brown and grey. No longer sporting her fur trimmed coat, the older female had instead donned a long robe adorned with matching hood, bare feet shifting along the floor softly as she carefully tread towards the teen.

Lisa couldn't help but think she resembled a wicked nun, and almost questioned why the woman was even in the church. Whatever creature Samael was, it certainly didn't appear to be human. It resembled something more akin to a demon, and the intern was dubious that anything demonic could be in any way holy.

'What do you want?' The girl asked, forsaking her usual good manners.

'How is my darling incubus?' the mother enquired, an amused glimmer illuminating her otherwise unpleasant features.

Furious, the intern made to stand, knuckles going white as they gripped the dark wood. It were as though Alessa, the child she had carried in her womb for nine months, had become nothing more than a means to an end. Lisa was thankful that, regardless of how bad things were, she would never be as sick and twisted as Dahlia Gillespie.

The entire town seemed to forget just how much of an oddball the older woman really was. She was insane. Always had been. But now she was insane and _grieving. _Nobody wanted to mock a mad woman who had recently lost her only child.

_Poor woman. Since the accident, she hasn't been the same. She's lost her mind. Who can blame her? Alessa died, afterall. _

None of it was true. Dahlia had known exactly what she was doing, and no amount of sympathy could change what the horrible woman had orchestrated.

Perhaps she wasn't even crazy? The more Lisa listened to her, the more she began to think it was all an elaborate ruse. Nobody wanted to associate with the woman because she was strange, but that sort of anti-social existence allowed her to do as she pleased.

Even now, townsfolk were wary of commenting on her unusual choice of dress, fearing that they would be laughing at a woman driven to the brink of madness by an unforeseen tragedy. Lisa knew the truth, but it was a hollow victory when there was nobody to tell.

'Do you really think that scarring your daughter is going to birth God?' The nurse quizzed, denim jeans grazing the pews as she shifted from foot to foot.

'Insolent girl.' The woman flippantly responded. 'Paradise can only exist in a world free of pain and sorrow. We must cleanse this filthy planet before it can rise from the ashes like a Phoenix emerging from the purifying flames.'

'What does that have to do with Alessa?'

'That child is special. She will be the mother of God, as was prophesied.' The tie around her neck swayed as she moved, clashing with the rest of her garish outfit. 'Only loathing can fertalise the being inside her, for there is no stronger emotion than hatred.'

Lisa scoffed. 'What about love? Surely the love for your daughter should outweigh all else?'

'Love can be false. It can be misleading.' Raising her arms to the concealed sky, Dahlia spun in a single circle, as if awaiting the arrival of some unseen saviour. 'But hatred is something pure and honest. When your heart is full of hate, it cannot be swayed by something as futile as love.'

The intern thought carefully about what Dahlia had said. It was true that love was often misconstrued. She herself had discovered this with Kaufman's scheming and manipulation. Even so, to consider burning one's offspring was something even she could not condone.

'Why are you here?' She quizzed, knowing it was pointless to argue. 'Don't you zealots have your own church to go to? Someplace far from here?'

'Can you hear her?' The older woman quizzed, ignoring Lisa's question. 'I can. She sometimes speaks to me, crying out for attention. It would be wise to ignore her, she is very manipulative. That girl weaves lies like a spider weaves its web.'

The two women stared silently at one another, locked in a match of wits as both refused to blink first. Lines creased the nurse's brow as she scowled unfavourably at Dahlia, wondering how long she'd be able to stand there and gaze into those hollow eyes.

It were as though nothing lay behind them. Two dead, empty orbs that emit a cold vacancy. The Gillespie was devoid of everything that made her human, like a being born without a soul to warm their icy exterior and frozen heart.

No longer comfortable with continuing their conversation, the intern buttoned up her jacket to leave, head swimming as she pushed by the waiting mother. Dahlia seemed to leave a shadow wherever she walked, as though her very presense corrupted the world around her. The church felt tainted, as though it had been completely stripped of all that was good.

Shuddering, she stepped out into the dim street, dull lamps illuminating the pavement as she descended the steps with eager hops, trying to place as much distance between herself and that woman as she possibly could.

Kaufman was a bad influence, but for him, the entire debacle was merely business. Dahlia, on the other hand, earnestly believed that she was going to birth Paradise from the womb of her daughter, twisted beyond repair as she were.

_I thought I had a miserable upbringing. _Lisa thought, placing both hands in her pockets as she walked. _But in hindsight, living with my mother isn't so bad._

It was strange, but for the first time in months, Lisa wanted to be with her parents.


	33. Putrefy

'You need to eat something.'

Lisa's mother begrudgingly offered her daughter some toast, expectantly waiting for the food to be accepted.

Recently the nurse had found herself without an appetite, eschewing meals in favour of of an empty stomach. Occasionally she would binge on whatever she could get her hands on, only to later regurgitate everything that she'd devoured.

Somehow her gut seemed to reject any substance that wasn't PTV, making it difficult to appease her fleeting pangs of hunger.

Woeful, she refused the butter soaked plate that hovered before her face, instead reaching for the nearby jug and pouring herself another glass of crystal water. Like a desert in the midst of a drought, she couldn't quench her undying thirst.

'Do you have an eating disorder?'

The teen shook her head. 'I'm just tired.'

Her mother scoffed. 'That's ridiculous. How can you be too exhausted to eat? Without food, you'll simply waste away.'

Head resting against the wall, the intern folded her arms across her chest, watching as the spread began to melt and seep into the soggy bread, dripping viscously onto the white porcelain like pus trickling from a bloated wound.

It took all of her strength not to gag, memories drifting to that mummified girl encased in soiled bandages. Eyes settling on the vase of posies poised in the centre of the table, Lisa tried to avoid her parent's piercing gaze, lacking the energy to have another tedious argument.

It was much too difficult to engage in conversation, and she didn't enjoy discussing uncomfortable and awkward subject matter. With her mother, it was always a work related topic, which only made Lisa's predicament more pronounced.

'Is something bothering you?'

The teenager glanced at the woman sitting opposite. 'No, I'm alright.'

With a noise of frustration, she turned her eyes to the ceiling. 'I'm not an idiot, Lisa. Something's wrong. You can tell me, I won't get mad. We may not always get along, but I'm still your mother.'

In the weeks that followed her outburst, the woman's attitude had softened somewhat, albeit their relationship was still rather strained. For the two of them to be on speaking terms, however stilted, meant that progress had been made.

Fingernails tapping the side of her glass, the nurse yearned to tell her mother the truth, painfully biting her tongue to prevent the words from spilling out. But it was impossible to confess without airing her own dirty laundry. And if she did that, then what would come of her parents? She didn't want her actions to cause them any harm.

More confined than she had ever been, the intern opened her mouth and let more lies tumble forth. It was all she could do to stave off suspicion.

'I keep thinking about Alessa.' She finally said, eyes on the lace tablecloth.

'Oh, I see.' The older woman hesitated as she searched for the right words. 'That must have been difficult for you. It's never easy seeing a body.'

Lisa shrugged. 'I had to see one sometime, right?'

'Eventually, but you're still so young, and Alessa was just a child. It's always worse when they're children.'

The teen nodded her head in agreement. She had known that becoming a nurse would involve helping people, but the idea of seeing a corpse was something that had never occurred to her. It seemed silly somehow, but that's how it was.

'At least you can rest easy knowing you made the girl comfortable in her last moments.'

With a stifled laugh, Lisa gathered a selection of dishes and headed for the sink, submerging both hands in the tepid water as she began to scrub the plates clean. Doing the dishes wasn't something she particularly enjoyed, but it allowed her to drop the facade, frowning as she turned her back on the woman.

Whilst running a sodden cloth over pale white discs, the intern's mother continued to witter on about the first time she viewed a body. It was so casual that she may as well have been discussing the weather, stirring her tea as she described the intricacies of death.

'Eventually you just get used to it.' She finished, tone steady and voice calm.

'I don't think I'll ever get used to this.' The girl replied, swallowing the lump that threatened to choke her.

Pausing to brush strands of hair from her eyes, the strawberry blonde pulled her bob into a ponytail, leaving it to cascade down her back as she leaned forward to rinse the soap suds from her flesh. Depressed, the nurse reached into the murky water and removed the plug, dangling the chain around the faucet as she dried her hands with a nearby towel, scowling as the coarse fabric caught her brittle and broken fingernails.

Even when her grandfather passed away, Lisa couldn't bring herself to look inside his open casket, waiting at the far end of the church as she lingered by the door, accepting that he was gone, but not wanting her final memory to be of his hollow body.

Gazing at the bland floral wallpaper, the young woman was suddenly overcome with a sense of melancholy, as though a vortex had appeared to suck all joy from the world. Unable to ignore the sensation, she clasped both arms around herself, not bothering to hide her misery as she turned around, sullen and glum.

'Mom?'

'Yes?' The woman asked, slightly concerned.

'I know we don't always get along, but I do love you.'

Startled, the older woman blinked back her surprise. 'What's brought this on?'

Lisa shrugged, 'Nothing. I guess I just felt like I should tell you, in case anything happens.'

Standing to her full height, the nurse collapsed into her mother's warm embrace, returning the tight grip that enveloped her. She smelled of perfume and soap, a scent that brought comfort to the distressed intern.

Her mother had always carried a pleasant aroma, and when she was small, the girl would often curl up beside her, inhaling the sweet and fruity fragrance that seemed to be her natural odour.

'What on Earth is going to happen?' She earnestly queried, pulling back to meet her daughter's gaze, fingers cupping the girl's angular chin.

'It was Alessa. The boiler accident. It happened so quickly, and I was thinking, _"What if that happens to me? What if I get run over while crossing the road?" _So I want you to know that I love you, in case I have an accident.'

With a soft chuckle, the parent ran a hand down her child's face. 'I know. Now stop being silly and cheer up. It's not the end of the world.'

_Perhaps. _Lisa thought, forcing herself to smile. _But it certainly feels like it._

And it did, like a whirlwind consuming her until all she could see was dust and debris. Something prickled in her mind, like a spark on her brain, igniting a fire that spread through each and every nerve until it finally reached her heart.

Dread. Foreboding. Terror. They were coming. She didn't know when, or how they would strike, but she knew that they inevitably would. Each shadow, every sound, setting her on edge until she was an utter wreck barely capable of logical thought.

She was falling apart, like ancient parchment disintegrating in the howling wind. Eroding little by little, until eventually, there would be nothing left.


	34. Entry 8

_August 8th 1983_

_04:32 No change..._

_06:07 No change..._

_09:55 No change..._

_The clock is ticking, but still she lies there, chest heaving as she struggles to breath, eyes empty as she stares at the ceiling, as though there's nothing but hot air inside her head._

_I tried to leave but my legs gave in, bruises on my knees where I fell, hand inches from the handle. Maybe she wants me to stay? But I want to go. Seven years of repeating the same routine, like a rusty cog that's slowly grinding to a halt. _

_I had a plan. I've finally cracked. I had a plan. Didn't work._

_Ask doctor to let me quite being in charge of that patient. It's too weird. Still alive, but with wounds that won't heal._

_Told the doctor I quit. Wouldn't work at that hospital anymore._

_Wrist hurts. He grabbed. I got mad and yelled at him. Told him I didn't care what would happen. Told him I'd rather die. _

_But then I ran out of PTV. Begged him for more. On my back. On my belly. Whatever it took. Can't function without it. If I'm the cog, then it's my oil, keeping me running so I don't creak to a stop._

_Can't. It's too much._

_The room is filled with insects. Even with doors and windows shut they get in to spite me. _

_To the hospital..._

_Spiders, ants, locusts. They tickle my flesh as they creep over my skin, leaving a trail of venom that seeps into my veins. Tried sealing the cracks with bandages, but they gnaw through them, scurry underneath the frame to attack._

_In my hair. In my ears. My eyes. Any orifice. _

_Get them out!_

_Feeling bad. Need to throw up. But nothing comes out. Vomiting only bile. Blood and pus flow from the faucet. I try to stop it, but it won't turn off._

_I poured a glass of water for myself, but it was discoloured. Congealed like an old wound. I dropped it and it smashed, shards slicing my hands as I bent to pick them up._

_Need drug._

_Help me..._


	35. Reap

**AN: Okay, here it is, the final chapter. I'm sorry if anyone is disappointed with the way it ends, but I always planned to end it like this. I've had a lot of fun writing this story, and I really appreciate all the feedback you've given me. Thanks for reading, I hope you've enjoyed it.**

Lisa's hair had grown considerably in the passing years, creating a stark contrast to the child she used to be. Ironically, she looked more youthful at the age of twenty-three, than she had done as a naive seventeen year old.

Having traded in her LPN badge for a green band emblazened with the letters SP, the woman had now become a specialist practitioner. Her mother had been proud, as expected, but the cracks were beginning to show behind that painted grin, a portrait of fallacy that never betrayed how the nurse truly felt.

Each day she would drag herself out of bed, scaling the mountain of doubt that led to Alchemilla, only to tumble back down each evening, teetering on a tightrope that threatened to snap at any moment, sending her spiralling into oblivion.

With time, Alessa had also changed. Physically a fourteen year old girl, her chest had blossomed with puberty, limbs lengthening as her dark hair lay splayed across the mattress. However, those haunted eyes remained in a constant state of turmoil, flickering between consciousness as she wavered in and out of sleep.

Sometimes she would twitch, her body spasming as damaged nerves acted without consent. The drip in her arm was filled with useless fluid, superfluous as it were to someone with the ability to live eternally.

Lisa regularly cried herself to sleep. Occasionally she heard Alessa sobbing. Dahlia came to visit once, and she could have sworn the child called out for her mother, a pitiful whisper that could barely be heard over the sound of her beating heart.

Though still horribly scarred, Alessa's skin had slowly started to heal, most likely a result of her otherworldly powers. She was more aware of her surroundings, pupils staring directly at her carer as the woman moved to change her bandages.

It unnerved the nurse, who continuously looked away.

Kaufman himself became far more withdrawn. There were days when he wouldn't even resort to blackmail, merely handing her the PTV when she requested it. Soon Lisa began to notice a pattern, aware that the director's mood would often sour whenever the older Gillespie required his attention.

Dahlia would often ring to discuss Alessa, and despite hearing only half a conversation, she knew who was speaking from the way the doctor reacted. Short-tempered and agitated, constantly deriding the mother for her complicated speech patterns.

She remembered watching as he irately slammed the phone back on the receiver, almost shattering the sturdy plastic as he stormed out of the hospital to deal with whatever menial task Dahlia had requested of him. When the man returned, he was carrying a vial of exotic fluid. Red in hue, not unlike liquid PTV, but somehow lacking the drug's familiarity.

She was under the impression that he didn't want Dahlia to know of it, for when he caught her spying, he demanded she keep quiet, ushering her out of his office whilst he concealed it someplace safe.

Aglaophotis. That was it's name. She didn't understand what it was for, but she had heard him mumbling incoherently from beyond the dense wood of his door, cursing Dahlia as he muttered something about a contingency plan.

A search of the library turned up little information, but she assumed it came from some sort of plant, similar to White Claudia. Regardless, she didn't speak a word of it to the director, refusing to further involve herself in his affairs.

She gave up trying to fight him.

One day she would summon the courage to expel all of her bitterness and hatred, only to later grovel on her knees when she needed a hit. How many times had she threatened to leave? Eventually, her words lost all meaning, and Kaufman simply shrugged them off, patiently waiting for the next time she would plead for another bag of white powder.

Sometimes her thoughts would drift to Travis, and she would ponder whether the man ever discovered the truth about the child, or whether he remained blissfully ignorant of the whole facade. Kaufman seemed irate whenever she brought up the topic, dissuading her from further pursuing the subject. He had, for unknown reasons, an inherent dislike of the man.

Day after day she would wander the bitter walls of Alchemilla, working like a well oiled machine that was slowly grinding to a halt. Care for Alessa, take a hit, go home, wallow in self-pity. It was a never ending cycle, as though she were destined to repeat the same routine for all eternity. A wretched and despondent existence.

Perhaps this was the reason she locked herself in the examination room one evening, head thumping from a combination of stress and withdrawal. Her entire body heavy with lethargy, like Atlas forced to carry the world on his back. Palms flat on a wooden desk, she keeled over to inhale the powder she had laid out.

It was a much larger dose than usual, a terrible risk resulting from the need to escape the drudgery of everyday life. At first there was a high, but the low swept her off her feet like a tsunami crashing down from above, powerful and overwhelming.

Images flashed before her eyes, visions of tattered bandages and weeping wounds transforming into vicious tendrils that whipped at her flesh. Horrid, blood soaked teeth grinned at her as insects emerged from every orifice. The room fell into darkness, and she fumbled for a light, watching as the room tunnelled into black.

She was drowning, but no amount of scrambling could help her reach the surface. Lungs full of water, or was it vomit? Choking, coughing, spluttering as brittle nails marked the tile, clawing desperately as her head hit the floor. Laughing voices, whispers, gurgling. A hellish chorus that drowned out the sound of her own fading pulse.

Then came a sudden jolt, and she was lost.

When she awoke, the lights were out. The door was jammed, and she couldn't seem to find a key. Bile rose in her throat, and she struggled to remember where she was, how she got there. Scared and alone, she hid beneath the desk like a cowering child, listening to the distant sound of mechanical whirring and eerie ambiance.

Cold sweat trickled down her nape, assuring her that the world she knew was gone, replaced with unyielding fear of the unknown. In the corner, she saw the figure of a girl draped in blue, flickering briefly before vanishing amongst the collecting shadows. Who was she? It was a face the nurse could not recall, though it held some semblance of recognition.

The handle rattled, door creaking open to reveal a bright light illuminating the darkness. A torch, bright and invading, caught her in it's sights, highlighting the kneeling woman straining to peer past the blinding beam.

It was a man.


End file.
